Christmas TV
by Lbug84
Summary: When two people meet online, how can they hope to separate what's real from the fantasy? Both burned and scarred in their pasts, Katniss and Peeta develop an unconventional relationship in this modern day everlark AU, written for dispatchesfromdistrict7, and prompted by the Slow Club song Christmas TV.
1. Chapter 1

When two people meet online, how can they hope to separate what's real from the fantasy? Both burned and scarred in their pasts, Katniss and Peeta develop an unconventional relationship in this modern day everlark AU, written for dispatchesfromdistrict7, and prompted by the Slow Club song Christmas TV.

I had some heavy hitters help me out here. Gigantic hugs and thank yous to MockingJayFyingFree and Chelzie for being awesome betas and Lauralulubee and Honeylime08 for prereading. Your feedback has been invaluable, ladies.

Importing this document from AO3, so if its weird, let me know. Thanks!

Happy holidays!

* * *

**Peeta POV**

"Fuck," I mutter to myself as I kick the door to my bedroom closed. It's not my bedroom, really. Not anymore. I grew up here, but this is my parents' house. The bed that I move over to and sit on, is the twin bed I slept on as a teenager.

I hate coming home for the holidays. All my parents want to do is criticize my life choices. They hate that I work in advertising instead of at the family bakery, they hate that I live in New York and not in our small town, and most of all, they hate that I haven't found a nice girl to settle down with yet.

They don't know that I actually did. And that she cheated on me.

I run my fingers though my hair. Fucking Delly. I wanted to bring her home this Thanksgiving. I wanted to show her off, have her on my arm. And instead I find her fucking my roommate, Finnick, two days before we were supposed to leave. I have half a mind to tell his girlfriend, Annie. But, something tells me that situation will come to a head whether or not I do.

I'm tense. Stressed. I need relief.

I pull out my laptop and set it on the edge of the bed. I pull up PornHub and check out a few short clips. I start with the videos of couples having sex, but find that in my anger, they aren't satisfying to watch. I haven't even been moved to pull out my dick yet. I move over to the bondage clips. There's a video of a girl tied to a bed, while some dude uses a neck massager on her, forcing her to cum. It's interesting enough and so far it's the only thing that's caused my dick to twitch, so I watch another. And another.

I stroke myself. I'm turned on by the idea of being in control. I'm never in control. Not at work since I'm the junior exec, not in my family since I'm the baby, and apparently not in my relationships since I'm a fucking pushover. And this is... not much different. My dick softens in my hand. Watching a woman be dominated was something, but at the end of the day, that's all I'm doing. Watching. I'm about to close out of the video, and call this a failed mission, when I see a link that says "Live Models."

I follow the link and am brought to a list, scores of live nude models broadcasting from their homes. I try to click on one, but it tells me I need to sign up. Of course...but it's free to join. I hate giving out my debit card info, but I can always get a new card on Monday. So I spend the next 4 minutes of my life registering. I choose the username "_SpecialBread_" and move back to the models.

I select the first one who catches my eye. A blonde girl, busty, who apparently loves blowjobs so much, she's decided to broadcast that fact. Her username_HeadfromGlimmer_ makes me frown, but she's online, so I enter her chat. She appears on the screen and she's giggling.

"No, I won't do that here. But if you request a private chat with me after the show, then _maybe_."

Maybe? Fuck her. I exit her chat. I want someone who's going to do what I say. Not a fucking maybe. I use the search field to narrow things down. Moving out of my comfort zone might get me better luck, so I search for a model with black hair. I scroll through the photos until I see her, _GirlOnFire_. She's nothing like any of the other girls I've been with. She's thin, toned, tanned, and her grey eyes and dark hair are impossible to ignore. And her show is on right now. So I join.

"You want me to put a condom on a banana?"

She smirks as she reads her latest request.

"With my mouth?"

Her head turns to her right. Her long dark hair blocks her from my view. "Ummm... Well... I don't have any bananas. But I have a cucumber. Should I get it?" she smiles. "Okay. Hang on."

I immediately frown. The performers aren't supposed to leave the screen. But she's back in less than 15 seconds, with a cucumber in hand.

"Here it is..." She holds it up triumphantly. "Oh right, the condom." She pulls her purse from the floor and deposits it on the table in front of her. She sifts through her bag, tossing aside a pack of gum and a Snickers bar. "Here we are, best to be prepared right?" She winks.

Her eyes dart back and forth as she reads some more. "It's a Trojan. No ribs or ridges or anything. That work for you?" She smiles. She seems to be genuinely enjoying herself. She's comfortable on camera, not stiff, and despite the cucumber and condom she holds in her hands, she's not coming off as slutty, just eager to please.

"Here we go," she says. She places the condom into her mouth then pulls the cucumber to her lips. I watch with my jaw dropped as I lean forward, watching her mouth as she slowly uses her tongue to unroll the condom. When she releases it, with another proud smile, she looks back to the screen and laughs.

"Well, I don't know what 'nmjmhmbhm' means, _SpecialBread_, but I hope that means you liked it."

Shit! I accidentally leaned on the keyboard. I feel the blush spread on my cheeks. She stares at the camera. It looks like she's looking right at me.

"Well it's time for me to go. See you next time, same time Thursday through Sunday. And remember, you can always chat with me privately. I hope you do. I love it when you take control."

Fuck.

"Happy Thanksgiving, everyone," she blows a kiss at the camera. And just like that it's over.

**Katniss POV**

I disconnect from the server and sit back in my chair with a sigh. I'm always disappointed at the end of a show. I enjoy them so much. I like giving up control, even if it's fake, and even if it's only for a little while. In my real life, I have so much responsibility. Between school and Prim, I feel like I'm spiraling. I'm busting my ass for a degree in sociology that will never get me a high paying job. Prim's doctors are constantly altering her AED dosage. And I'm still grieving. That's why I love this job. I can remove myself from my life for a little while. It's my therapy.

It's also lucrative. A 60-minute show at $0.60/minute per subscriber. Today, I had my regulars -there are about 20- plus 6 new viewers, and 1 even trailing in at the end. I cover Prim's medical bills with one chat. Pay the rest of our bills with another. And I'm saving to get us out of this Podunk town.

I use hot water and vinegar to wash the lubrication off of the cucumber. Then I slice it up and enjoy it with some leftover cacik I made yesterday. I grimace a little, there's not enough garlic. When I sit back down to my computer, there's an alert, saying someone would like a private chat. Sure why not?

The chat connects and I see _SpecialBread_ for the first time. He's stocky looking, with curly blonde hair and big blue eyes. I smile.

"Hey handsome. Welcome," I sneak one last quick bite of my cucumber snack.

"Hi," he says and he laughs nervously.

I quirk an eyebrow. "Oh. A virgin?"

"What?"

"This your first time?"

"Yeah," he admits. "I just... Well, I watched your show and I really enjoyed it."

"Oh good. I'm so happy I could please you," I purr.

"Yeah... So..." He laughs. "I'm not sure how this works."

"Is there something you'd like me to do for you?" I prompt him.

"Like what?"

I lean back in my chair. "Whatever you want, sugar. You're in charge."

"I'm in charge," he repeats. "Well... I was just wondering something about you. Maybe you could tell me?"

"Of course, what is it?"

"Your skin...you're so dark but still so light. I was wondering...what color your nipples are."

A smile slowly spreads across my face. "You want me to tell you what color my nipples are?"

"Yeah. Are they pink?"

"You don't want me to _show_ you?"

His eyes widen. "You'd show me?"

"Mmhmm," I say, unbuttoning my shirt, revealing my red bra underneath. "All you have to do is say so. Like I said, you're in charge."

I see his shoulders move as his breath deepens. "Show me," he says. There's a hint of authority in his voice. Not nearly as much as I'd hoped for, but I comply. I bring my hands to the front closure of my bra and unfasten it.

"They're dusky," he observes.

"Mmhmm," I respond. I cup my breasts in my hands. "Do you like them?"

He nods.

"Do you want to touch them?"

Again, he nods.

I use my thumbs to press and flick against my nipples. "What should I do now?"

"Keep doing that." He says as I roll my nipples under my thumb. His shoulder moves. He's touching himself.

"Mmm, feels good," I moan. "It's gonna make me wet."

"Fuck."

"Do you want me to get wet?" This guy requires a lot of prompting.

"Yeah... Can I see?"

"See what, lover?"

"I want you to show me how you get wet." I smile. "Will you touch yourself for me?"

Okay, there we go. It's a standard request, and I didn't have to work too hard to pry it out of him. I push away from the table so he can see more of me.

"What should I use?" I gesture to the toys beside me. I pick up a g-spot vibrator. "This one usually makes me cum hard."

"None of that."

"What?"

"I want you to use your fingers."

"Oh." That's a first. "Well, it takes me longer to finish like that than with the toys." And he's paying by the minute. It's also far more intimate than the quick, impersonal release of a vibrator. I hold up a pink rabbit vibrator, hoping to sway his opinion.

"I don't want you to finish. I just want to see how wet your pussy gets," he says.

"Interesting," I comment as I stand and unfasten my skirt.

"Keep the skirt on," he says. Ooh. There's the authority I was looking for.

"Yes sir. Should I take off my panties?"

"Not yet. Sit down." I obey. "Spread your legs...Lift up your skirt and let me see your panties." My panties are red, and match the bra I already took off. I begin to rub myself over the fabric.

"Good," he says. "Are you rubbing your clit?"

"Mmhmm."

"Does it feel good? "

"So good."

"When your panties are soaked, take them off and show them to me."

I do just that. Once I feel my moisture seep through the fabric, I remove the garment and hold it up for his inspection.

"Damn," he approves. "Lean back again...good. Now touch yourself."

I do as he asks, slowly drawing circles over my clit.

"Do you have a boyfriend, Girl on Fire?"

What I have is a dead husband and scars from the fire that claimed his life. "Do you want me to?"

"I don't know. A pussy that gets that wet is begging to be fucked."

"Mmhmm. I need it." I smile. "Would you fuck me fast or slow?"

"Slow. No, fast...and hard. I'd want you to scream my name."

I drop my head back and shut my eyes. "Well, boy with the _special bread_, I bet you'd give it to me good."

"Peeta."

I lift my head. "What?"

"My name. It's Peeta."

"Right, sorry," I say as I drop my head back again. "Mmm, Peeta," I moan.

"No. Stop it."

I lift my head again. "Did I do something wrong?"

"I don't know." He turns his head as a siren passes outside of his window. "It's just... I don't like how that sounded."

Huh? "My apologies."

"What's your name?"

"Girl on Fire."

"No, I mean your actual name."

"What do you want it to be?"

He leans back with a heavy sigh. "You won't tell me your name."

"It's Michelle."

He looks up at the screen. "No it isn't." I sit up and cross my legs. My breasts are exposed, but I hold his gaze and make no move to cover up. "This isn't what I want," he says.

"What do you want?"

"I want control. I want it to be real, even if it's only for a little while."

"You're in control," I tell him.

"Then tell me your name."

I look away from the screen and bring my arms to cover my chest. I'm not sure why, but I tell him the truth. "Kat."

He nods. "Good. It's nice to meet you, Kat." I eye the screen suspiciously. "Did you have a nice Thanksgiving?"

There's a siren outside that attracts my attention. I look towards the window.

"Kat?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Thanksgiving was ...good. Then I did my show... So... Yeah..." I'm a decent performer. But, right now, I'm not performing. Why am I not performing?

"Is your show successful?"

"I think so. I get a thousand bucks a show so that's pretty good."

"Are you serious?"

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"You do four shows a week?"

I ignore that question. "Can I put a shirt on?"

"Oh, sure."

I reach for a T-shirt. It's tight, and shows off my middle, but at least my breasts are covered. "Thank you."

I look back to the screen and find him staring at me.

"You really are beautiful. Your eyes are like...silver."

"They're grey. You must have a glare on your screen."

He raises his eyebrows. "And she's funny, too. So tell me about your Thanksgiving."

"It was fine...The usual fanfare. Watched the Macy's parade on TV, and shared a meal with family."

"Same here. We had an amazing spread. Followed by family drama. You know what I mean, right?"

I shake my head. "Not really."

"Lucky."

Yeah...lucky... Dead parents. Dead husband. Sick dependent sibling. Really lucky. "I watched _**The Nightmare Before Christmas**_," I say trying to change the subject.

"I like that movie. Thanksgiving is the perfect day to watch it." He smiles at me.

"I think so too," I return the smile.

" Kat... does anyone ever call you just to talk?"

I chuckle. "No, not _just_ to talk."

"Well, I like talking to you."

"Yeah, well, you've already seen my pussy."

"Well, you got me there. It's, uh...very nice, by the way. I don't know if I said that before."

He didn't. "Thank you." I lean forward. "Why'd you stop me before?"

"You weren't enjoying it."

"I was. It's just that I'm not used to doing that on camera. Most people just want to see me cum as fast as possible and then they sign off without another word."

"That's awful."

I shrug a shoulder. "It's my job."

"Right... So... What other holiday movies do you like?"

"Huh?"

"You know, what's your poison? _**Miracle on 34th Street**_? _**A Christmas Story**_? _**Olive the Other Reindeer**_, maybe?"

I smile... I actually love _**Olive the Other Reindeer**_. "All of the above. Why do you want to know?"

"I don't know. I think I like you," he smiles. I narrow my eyes slightly, trying to make sense of him. "Plus all my friends give me shit for liking Christmas TV."

I nod my head in understanding. "Mine too."

He chuckles. Then his eyes drift down. "I should go. This chat is costing me $1.25 a minute."

My take home for a private session like this is $0.85/minute.

"You sure you don't want to...?"

"Next time. Can I call you again?"

"It's why I'm here. Thursdays through-"

"Sundays, yeah... Goodnight, Kat."

"Goodnight, Peeta."

He signs off.

**Peeta POV**

The traffic getting back into the city is thick, despite the hour. Thank God there's a flat rate for cabs, or this ride would cost and arm and a leg. I lean back, grateful to be back anyway. Home is always so stressful.

But, I've found a new way to decompress. After watching Kat's show and then chatting with her afterwards, she's all I can think of. Her perfect face, her perfect voice, her perfect body. She loves corny holiday flicks... and damn, her pussy gets so wet. Her show is on again tonight. In ten minutes actually. I was hoping to watch it, but from the looks of this traffic, I'll be lucky to catch the tail end.

"The Deegan's backed up," the cabbie tells me.

"Got any other ideas?" We're on the FDR.

"First Avenue?" he suggests. Fuck, the lights alone will add 20 minutes. But this highway is bumper to bumper.

"Okay."

A few minutes later he exits the highway and we slowly make our way uptown. I live on the Upper East Side, just south of Spanish Harlem. Getting here is a pain in the ass. The only subway near me is the 6; it's a ten-minute walk away and it's always packed.

When I finally pull up in front of my building, I practically sprint up the stairs. Screw the elevator, it never works anyway. I throw my bag down and sit down at my desktop. It's only a minute before I navigate to Kat's page and click on her link.

Shit. She's currently in a premium chat. Means she's got a private group going...and I can't join. Fuck. I run my hands through my hair; that means someone else is in control of her right now. Someone else is making her do things... Why does this thought bother me? I shake my head. She's just a video sex operator that I met yesterday. I'm giving this too much thought.

But I can't stop. I pace back and forth, refreshing the page every couple of minutes. It's nearly an hour before her status changes to available. I send her a request right away.

She doesn't answer for a few minutes and I feel my anxiety rise. Why won't she answer? Why won't she-

"Evening, handsome."

I look at her face on the screen. There's a noticeable blush on her cheeks.

"Hi, Kat." She flinches. Did she forget that she told me her name?

"What can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to...talk."

"Talk?"

"Yeah... I want to hear about your day."

"You do?"

"Yeah."

"You sure you wouldn't rather do something else?" she raises an eyebrow at me.

"I'm sure."

She shrugs her shoulder. "Well... I ran errands. Shopping. It was a pain in the ass because it was Black Friday."

"Did you get your Christmas shopping done?"

"Yeah, a little. But people go nuts at the mall by me. Fist fights, even trampling over each other."

"Yeah, same at the mall in my hometown. It gets crazy. What'd you do after you finished shopping?"

"Made dinner... Then did my show."

"How was it today?"

"A few of my regulars didn't show, but that's to be expected with the holiday weekend."

"How many regulars do you have?" she raises an eyebrow at me. "Tell me," I say in a deep voice.

"20...or so."

"You had a private group chat after the show."

"Yeah."

"How many?"

"2 guys and 1 girl."

"What they make you do?"

She looks away. "Let's talk about something else."

"I want to hear about this. Did they see your breasts?"

"Yeah," she says quietly, still looking away.

"Your pussy?"

She looks up at me. "Yeah."

"What did they make you do?" She purses her lips. "Did you like it?"

"No." She slowly shakes her head. "It's these stupid frat guys, and one of them has a girlfriend who likes to be involved. They don't say very nice things to me."

"So why do you chat with them?"

"It's my job. I can't turn down every customer I don't like. I made $120 in 45 minutes, plus they tip well." Tips... I didn't know you could tip. I should look around this site a little more." They'd better for the shit they request."

"What do they request?"

"Nothing. If they get out of hand, I'll block them."

A moment of silence passes and I try to study her emotions as they pass across her face. "Why do you do this?"

"Do what?"

"This. Video sex."

"Oh. Well, it's flexible, easy, lucrative... anonymous."

"But sex?"

"It's not actual sex. So what if people see me?"

"But with people like that?"

She shrugs. "There are also people like you." I try not to think about just how many people like me there are.

"Peeta?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we try that again? What we started last night?"

"You want me to-?"

"Mmhmm," she pulls her shirt over her head. She's not wearing a bra and her nipples are hard.

"Fuck, you're sexy."

"Tell me what to do?" There's an edge to her voice. Is she begging?

My resolve crumbles with the look on her face. "You know what I want," I tell her.

"You want me to touch myself?" I nod. "With my fingers?" I nod again. "Okay."

She leans back, propping her legs up for me. Her underwear is already gone and the skin around her lips is red. What the hell did they make her do? She sees the concern on my face. She sighs.

"It was just wax. They like to hear me...in pain."

They make her hurt herself. And she obeys.

"Kat-"

"You'd be gentle with me, right?" she asks.

"Yeah, I would...at first anyway," I say honestly. I watch her fingers circle expertly over her clit. "God, I wish I were doing that to you." I rub at myself over my jeans.

"You _are_ doing it to me. Oh, Peeta you feel so good."

When she presses her fingers inside of her, I unzip my jeans and grab ahold of my cock. I stroke myself in time with her movements.

"Tell me what you'd do to me?" She's begging. Definitely begging.

I shake my head and remember that this is what I want. To be in control of her.

"I'd hold you down and fuck you. I'd make sure you take every last inch of me."

"You'd be so deep inside of me."

"So deep, baby. I'd make you cum hard."

"Yes," she sighs dropping her head back and working her fingers faster. I match her pace, feeling the familiar twisting build inside. My balls tighten against my body and my breath becomes labored.

"I want to taste you. Take your fingers out of your pussy and suck on them." She does as I say without question. "Tell me how you taste."

"Sweet. And tangy. Like red wine," she moans.

"I want to eat you out," I tell her.

"You'd fuck me with your tongue?"

"Yeah, and my fingers."

"And then your cock?"

"Hell yeah."

"Oh God, Peeta, I'm close," she moans.

"Me too, I say as I lean back and watch her. Her back is arched and her breasts move with her breath. She's so sexy, so beautiful. "Ungh!" I groan as the building tension snaps and I release a load of cum onto my stomach. I continue to stroke myself, watching her as she nears her peak. She's wet, and her fingers make a slapping sound against her pussy as she pleasures herself.

"Peeta!" she cries out and my jaw drops. These aren't the fake moans from yesterday. This is real. She's climaxing and screaming my name. Her eyes are shut and her moans sound so fucking sexy. She comes back down, with shaky breath and a smile.

"Was that for me?"

She nods. "Yes, Peeta. You did that to me."

"The sounds you were making…" I shake my head.

She chuckles. "You like how I sound?"

"Yeah. I've never heard anything so sexy before."

She blushes. "Thank you for making me cum."

I pull my shirt up over my head and wipe the sticky mess off my stomach. "My pleasure."

"Will you call me again soon?"

"You don't want to talk right now? I know it's the middle of the night..."

"We can."

"Good." I say as I toss my soiled shirt across the room, missing the hamper. When I look back at the screen, she's pulling a shirt over her stomach and staring at me.

"What?"

"Nothing...you're attractive."

"Thank you," I smile. "What's Kat short for?"

"What?"

"I want to know your name. Is it Katherine? Katrina? Kathleen?"

"Katniss."

"Like the flower?"

"Yeah."

"So...Katniss who loves Christmas?"

She tries to hold back a smile. "Yeah."

"Have you ever been to New York?"

"No."

"It's where I live. Every year they have a huge Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center."

"I've seen it on TV."

"I like to go, but I'm usually alone."

"I'd go with you."

"Really?"

"Yeah...as long as you promise to take me ice skating there too."

"Of course. That's the best part. So Katniss. Have you been a good girl this year?"

"No," she answers quickly.

"That's too bad. I guess Santa will bring you coal?"

"I'm Santa. At least in this house, I am. And I'm getting a pair of boots I've had my eye on."

I laugh. "Okay, okay..."

I exhaust the last of the funds in my account speaking with her, but it's money well spent. I've never met a girl so funny, charming, sexy, passionate... And perfect. It's too bad I've never actually met her.

I spend the next few nights chatting with her, late at night. She even chats with me on the nights her show isn't on. She always greets me with a smile. She's always happy to chat, I always tip...and she always makes me cum.

On December 2nd, as I sit with a Starbucks latte on my desk, she tells me how she likes her coffee. I pick up the cup, and look at the red design.

"What's your favorite Christmas flower?" I ask her.

"Poinsettias. They're poisonous, you know."

"I like mistletoe," I tell her.

"Also poisonous," she smiles.

I sigh. "I wish I could kiss you under some mistletoe right now."

She blushes. "What else?"

"What would you let me do?"

"Whatever you want to do to me."

That night, I came twice, as I imagined just what that would be like.

It's December 4th, when I comment about the decorative lights hanging behind her, she lets more information about her family slip.

"We're celebrating tomorrow," she explains. "The feast of St. Nick... You know, Santa Claus."

"Oh. Do they flash?"

"The lights?"

I nod.

"No. My sister's an epileptic, so we don't have the flashing lights."

"You live with your sister?"

"Yeah. I take care of her... Enough about that. Right now, let me take care of you."

I become infatuated and obsessed with learning as much as I can about this girl. I think about her constantly. She's perfect.

**Katniss POV**

"It feels good, doesn't it?" The brown haired man, _CatosSword_, asks me.

"Yes," I moan. "It feels so good."

"Pour another drop on your filthy little snatch."

Assholes. I tip the candle, letting the hot wax spill onto my skin. It's not that hot to be honest – I'm using a Jimmyjane massage oil candle – but I wince for their benefit. "Ow," I whimper.

"She fucking loves it," _SmokeClove_ giggles. I really don't like her.

"Is that true, slut? Do you like it?" _10inchMarvel_ snickers.

"Mmhmm," I moan. "I like everything you do to me."

I see the various jerky movements spread across the screens. It's been 43 minutes. Hopefully they're all close.

"If we were there you'd be in so much trouble," _10inchMarvel_ continues. "And I can promise you that you wouldn't fucking like it." That's why I tracked their ISP address before continuing with this shit. They're all out in Montana, clearly without enough to do.

"Whose slut are you?" _CatosSword_ asks.

"Yours," I tell him. He's close. I go for the kill to make him cum and get this nightmare over with. I pour more wax between my legs and moan in my sexiest voice. "Oooh, It hurts. It hurts so much... Oh God!"

Not my best performance, but it was effective. _CatosSword_ stands, showing off his less than impressive length as he spills himself. Judging by the thick consistency of his ejaculate, he doesn't drink enough water. I bet that shit would taste nasty.

"Yes!" _SmokeClove_ moans. She's watching _CatosSword_, not me.

"Fuck," _10inchMarvel_ follows a moment later, burying his head on the desk in front of him.

"Come fuck me again real soon, okay?" I smile as I pinch a nipple.

All three screens go black.

I slump against my chair and exhale a breath. I hate those sessions. But the price is right. $0.85/minute times 3 people in the chat times 46 minutes, plus tips equals $130. Also known as groceries for a week.

And they were kind enough to request that I cum first tonight, so there's that.

I rub the massage oil into my skin. It soothes the burn. Though honestly, I always feel heat and flames on my skin. I pull on an oversized T-shirt and make my way over to the full-length mirror on the back of the door. I push my hair aside and slowly drag my fingertips over the always hot raised skin that begins between my shoulder blades and travels up my body. Like the flames that caused them, the scars twist in waves over my flesh and wrap around my neck. The last and thinnest of them comes to a point just above my collarbone.

I hear a new request from my desktop. I fix my hair, making sure no one can see the truth and I make my way back over to the computer. It's a request from_SpecialBread_. Peeta's calling again. I can't help but feel excited.

"Good evening, Kat," he smiles.

I relax. "Hi, Peeta. What can I do for you today?"

"Well, I wanted to hear about the Saint Nick festival you celebrated today."

He's calling to talk. So I talk. But let's not forget why we're here. I'll make it a point to get him off too.

"It was good. We decorated over the weekend so we were ready. My little sister liked the gift I got her."

"She doesn't think St. Nick got it for her?"

"She's a little old for that," I smirk.

"What'd you get her?"

"A rubber band bracelet loom. Those stupid little things are so in right now."

"You don't like them?"

I shake my head. "They're little rubber bands. If one snaps, then the whole bracelet comes apart, leaving little pieces of rubber around the house. I swear, they multiply in the dark."

He laughs. And I can't help but watch as his abs contract visibly through his white T-shirt.

"So, I was thinking," I begin.

"Yeah?"

"You say you want this to be different, right?"

"Yeah..."

"So, then, I have a request for you. You can say no if you want to. I just thought that-"

"What is it?"

I look away. Am I actually feeling nervous asking this? "I want to see you stroke yourself for me."

Why, Katniss?! Why do you want to see his dick?! It's not like I haven't seen more than my share today. But for some reason, I want to know more about Peeta.

"Why?"

"The truth?" Peeta nods. "I'm hoping what you've got there is better than what I've seen today."

Peeta laughs. Loud and hearty. "Well, you get points for honesty."

"Sorry. Forget I asked."

"You want to see my cock, huh?"

I shrug a shoulder.

He leans back in his chair. "I'll show you...but not until I'm rock hard. Think you can handle that?"

I smile. "Of course I can." I lean back, taking off my T-shirt and underwear and angling myself for his viewing pleasure. "Tell me," I say. "Tell me what to do?"

"I want you to spread yourself open for me."

"Like this?" I ask as I use my thumb and forefinger to show him what he wants.

"Why are you so wet?" he asks.

I could lie, say it's for him. But I don't. "I came a few minutes ago."

"Oh. And you had to do it while looking at a dick you didn't like?"

I smile. "Yeah."

"So that's why you want to see mine? So you can imagine me fucking you?"

"Maybe."

"I don't like maybe," he says seriously.

I make a mental note not to say maybe to him again. "I think about it," I tell him honestly. "About you fucking me." He's the only person since Gale I could see myself being intimate with. Too bad I've never even met him.

"When?"

"When I'm alone in bed."

"Do you touch yourself?"

"Yeah." My hands move to my breasts. "Last night I made myself cum three times thinking about you."

"Fuck."

"Are you hard for me?"

"Yeah."

I bite my bottom lip. "Can I see?" Peeta studies me for a moment. I wonder if he feels he's giving up control here. So, I do my best to keep the fantasy alive.

"I get so hot thinking about you. I want to take you in my mouth."

My words encourage him. He stands and pulls his pants over his hips. I raise an eyebrow as his cock springs free. It's good. He's thick and hard and I can see how much darker the hair at the base of his cock is than what's on his head.

"You're big," I tell him.

He raises an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yeah. Looks like a mouthful." His hand moves up and down his length. "Would you do that for me, Peeta. Would you fuck my mouth?"

It doesn't take much effort before Peeta spills himself on the desk in front of him. His ejaculate is nothing like _CatosSword_ _'s_. Peeta's is smooth looking, and white in color.

"I bet you'd taste sweet."

And as I watch his body slump against his desk, I realize that I want to know. I want to know exactly how he tastes.

This can't be good.

I spend the next week doing my best to get him off as quickly as possible. Soon, thoughts of his perfect cock begin to invade my mind - when I'm alone, when I'm at school. Generally whenever I shouldn't be thinking about him, I am. But it's more than just wanting to fuck him. I don't just want to know how he tastes. I want to know how he smells.

I want to know how it would feel to be under his control for real.

**Peeta POV**

It's December 20th, the day before I fly home again, when my roommate Finnick finally catches up with me. He doesn't know I know about him and Delly. He also doesn't know I've found a new apartment down in Hell's Kitchen, and have been slowly moving my things. There's only an air mattress and a duffle bag full of clothes left in my room. I plan on leaving him high and dry with January's rent. The electric bill is in my name and guess what, as of the first, he'll have no power.

Happy New Year, motherfucker!

"Listen, Peet. I noticed you spending a lot of time in your room lately," he begins. I look at him, and have to actively work not to attack him. "We're okay, right?"

I don't answer that. "How's Annie?"

"She's good. I'm actually thinking of proposing next year."

"Good for you." I make a mental note to send Annie an email after all. She deserves the right to make an informed decision for herself. My phone buzzes with a new call. It's Vick, my friend from back home. "Look, I need to take this," I say as I turn away from Finnick. I step back into my room and accept Vick's call.

"What's up?"

"Hey Ralphie!"

Every year, at Christmastime, Vick calls me Ralphie. It may have to do with my obsession with holiday movies. And the fact that my mother has washed both of our mouths out with soap doesn't help.

"Don't fucking call me that."

"Whatever. As many times as you made me sit through that god damned movie?"

"Get over it. What the hell do you want?"

"To tell you to get your ass over to my place tomorrow night. I'm having a little shindig."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. And there's someone coming I want you to meet."

"Who's that?"

"A friend."

He's always trying to set me up. "What's her name?"

"We call her Catnip."

"Catnip?"

"My brother used to say she was like catnip to him."

"Oh. She knew Gale?"

"Yeah. She's his... widow."

"Oh...Vick, I don't-"

"Look, you both love all this Christmas shit. I bet you'll like each other."

"Didn't she pull him out of a burning building?"

"Yeah... But, the smoke..." Vick clears his throat. "Look man, she's beautiful. Gorgeous, actually. And she's smart. Only 22 and working on her masters. She's loyal, and she's alone."

I sit down on my air mattress. "Gale's widow? That's a lot of baggage. Not to mention big shoes to fill." Gale was a great guy.

"Peeta, he passed two years ago. It's time she moved on. She deserves it. And I know you've been lonely since that hooker fucked around on you."

"She wasn't a hooker."

"That's right. Hookers get paid."

I laugh. "I'll come tomorrow night. But I'm not promising anything." I can't tell him I'm hung up on some video sex call girl. He wouldn't understand.

"Good... I'll see you then."

"Yeah," I say as I roll over and end the call.

It's late. I'd call Katniss if I could, but she's offline until the 26th. A whole week without her. What the fuck am I going to do?


	2. Chapter 2

**Brr! It's cold today! Hope you're all warm and snuggled up...and reading fanfiction :)**

**This story is already written, three parts and an epilogue. So you won't have to wait long for updates.**

* * *

**Katniss POV**

I step outside of my bedroom, wearing my favorite ugly sweater. It's a turtleneck that has a giant snowman's face on it.

"You should wear a dress," Prim suggests.

"And you should mind your own business. You take your medicine yet?"

"Yeah, Kat, you don't have to keep reminding me. I'll lay down soon."

Her episodes scare the hell out of me. I look at my beautiful little sister, who just turned 13. She looks exhausted. She had a minor episode earlier today. Her medication is off again, and she needs to rest. Plus there's so much to do. I look at the bulletin board hanging in the kitchen, covered with uncompleted tasks. I don't feel comfortable leaving her.

"I'm going to stay home."

"Böyle abuk sabuk konuşmayı."

"Prim-"

"Well, it's true, you're being ridiculous. Mrs. Sae is gonna check on me every half hour, and you'll only be three blocks away. Go! Have fun!"

"You're sure?"

"Evet! Go!"

"Diş fırçası," I remind her. "Unutmayın."

"I'm not 4. I'll brush my teeth."

"Don't stay up too late, okay?"

"I won't."

"I have my cell. And you know the number to Vick's right?"

"Yeah. Go!"

I kiss her on the cheek before she pushes me out of the door. Holding a batch of gingerbread cookies, I make my way downstairs and walk the three blocks over to Vick's place.

"Catnip!" he greets me as he opens the door. He pulls me in for a hug. I still haven't gotten over how much he feels like Gale. I pull away with a smile. "I'm so glad you're here."

I hand him the plate of cookies. "Yeah... Prim's not having a very good day, so I may have to leave."

"Did she?"

"Yeah."

He nods in understanding. "Well, I hope my guest of honor arrives soon then."

"This guy Ralphie you keep telling me about?"

"Yeah."

"The advertising junior account manager?"

"At a major firm. He's only 3 years out of college. When did you become such a snob?"

"Vick-"

"Trust me. You two are going to hit it off."

"You know I'm not ready." I'm not wearing my ring anymore, but I still have a faint tan-line.

"Just meet him, okay?" I nod and he hands me a cup of eggnog. "Nice sweater, by the way." I roll my eyes as I make my way inside.

I look at the scattered group of people clumped together. I recognize most of them; we all went to the same high school. I wave to Enobaria and take note of the fresh engagement ring on her finger. She's apparently marrying Brutus. I nod my head towards Gloss and his girlfriend, whom I do not recognize. Johanna and her new boyfriend are here, too. She smiles widely when she sees me and motions for me to join them.

"I'm so glad you made it tonight. I feel like I haven't seen you in forever."

"Yeah, well, you know..." I trail off. "Who's this?"

"Oh, Blight, this is Katniss."

"Nice to meet you. I'm so sorry for your loss."

The room becomes noticeably quieter. I roll my eyes and stand immediately. "Yeah... I'm just going to... go." I chug the eggnog and slam down my cup.

"I told you not to say that," I hear Johanna scold him as I walk away. This is why I don't hang out that much. To my friends, I'll always be the girl with the dead husband.

I hide in the bathroom for a few minutes, while I try to calm down. The eggnog was strong, but I'm not nearly drunk enough. I've only been here for 15 minutes and I'm ready to go home. The shock of losing Gale has long since passed, but condolences bring the feelings of loss up to the surface. It takes a few minutes, but my game face is soon back on. I step out of the bathroom with my head held high.

"Catnip," Vick's fingers curl around my upper arm. "Come on, Ralphie's here!"

"Stop calling me that," a man says from behind me and I freeze. I recognize the voice. "It's nice to meet you, Catnip."

My back is to him... He doesn't know it's me. I try to walk away, but Vick's arm is still tight on me.

"Don't be rude, Kat. Say 'hi' to Peeta."

"Hi, Peeta," I say, still not looking at him. I twist out of Vick's grip, grateful that I wore my hair down. I usually do now. It hides the scars.

"Katniss?" Peeta says. I bring my hands to my face.

"Shit," I mutter under my breath.

I turn around and do my best to smile. But when I meet his eyes, and see him staring at me with his mouth open, it falters. I turn on Vick.

"I thought your friend was named Ralphie."

"It's a nickname," Vick says. "This is Peeta," he gestures to the pale and obviously uncomfortable man in front of me. "Peeta, this is Katniss." He's too drunk to feel the tension between us. "Hey! You're both wearing ugly Christmas sweaters!" he beams. My eyes drift down to see that Peeta is in fact wearing an ugly sweater. It's a reindeer scene and it's perfectly gaudy.

"I'll leave you two alone. But look, you're standing under the mistletoe!" He pushes us a few inches closer. We both resist. I breathe a sigh of relief when he walks away.

"Is this really happening?" I say quietly.

Peeta nods. "I didn't know-"

"Me neither."

"You're Gale's widow," he says, looking away as he pieces things together. "Girl on ...Fire... Shit."

I take a step back. "I have to go."

"Wait! I'm sorry. I'm just surprised."

"Yeah, me too."

"Can we talk for a minute?" Vick whistles loudly from across the room, and gestures up towards the mistletoe. I can't help but blush at the memory of what Peeta said he'd do to me under the mistletoe.

"That's probably not a good idea."

Peeta slowly reaches out and touches my hand. I tense at the sensation of being touched by him for the first time. "Please?"

I shut my eyes and sigh. "What did you want to talk about?"

"I guess the first thing is to let you know that I'll be discreet. I won't mention how we're... acquainted."

"Okay. Thank you."

"And the second thing is that I'm happy to see you."

"Happy?"

"Yeah. I never thought we'd ever get the chance to... You know... In person."

"You think I'm going to sleep with you?"

"What? No! That's not what I meant."

"I'm not sleeping with you."

"I don't expect that."

I relax. "Good... So... What do you want?"

"I just want to talk to you."

"What about?"

"This," he gestures between us. "I... Well... You're all I think about."

"You think about _GirlonFire_," I clarify.

"I think about Katniss. The girl who takes care of her sister. The girl who loves _**It's A Wonderful Life**_... The girl who was starting to let me in. Just a little?"

I look away. Our chat sessions have been more personal than any of the others. But, it doesn't change the fact that he pays for me to get him off.

"A little," I admit.

He takes a step closer to me. He extends his index finger, and I watch as he slowly drags it down my arm. "I can't believe you're real."

"I'm real," I say as my eyes drift up to meet his. He looks up and I follow his gaze. The fucking mistletoe. He looks back down into my eyes. The air is thick between us. I'm not sure how long we stand there, staring at each other.

"I can't do this..." I whisper.

He nods his head in understanding. _GirlonFire_ isn't real. The sex goddess he's falling for doesn't exist. I hold my breath as he leans in. He places a quick kiss on my cheek.

"Thank you," I breathe. "I should go."

"Can I see you again?"

"You want to see me?"

He nods his head. "Absolutely. Coffee? Tomorrow morning?"

"I don't know if I can."

"Katniss," he says, using that tone, the one that makes me beg. I look into his eyes again. "Meet me for coffee."

I squeeze my thighs together, cursing the betrayal of my body. I nod my head.

"The shop on Main Street," he says.

"I know it."

"8:30."

"Okay."

**Peeta POV**

She does as I say.

Even in person, she obeys. God, she's so fucking sexy. I pull my coat shut as I climb out of my brother's car. I make my way into the coffee shop. It's early. Katniss isn't here yet. But she will be.

I order an Americano for myself and a black eye for her. I settle down in one of the big comfy chairs and I wait.

It's 8:30 on the dot when she arrives. Her hair is pulled back into a braid. I've only ever seen her wear it loose, and she's also wearing a coat, which is much more clothing than I'm used to seeing her in. She doesn't smile as she sits down next to me. She looks almost scared.

"Good morning," I greet her.

"I've only slept with Gale," she blurts out.

"What?"

"I've... only been with one man, and he's gone now... I don't know what you're expecting here, but I can't give it to you."

She looks away. I can faintly see keloid scars that wrap around her neck and just barely reach her collarbone. I never noticed them before. They must usually be hidden by her hair.

"I know you loved him very much."

"Yes, I do."

She turns back to me and catches me staring at her collarbone. She gasps and reaches behind her, quickly unbraiding her hair and fanning it out around her.

"It's okay to have scars," I tell her. I lift up my pant leg up, showing her the ugly 6-inch gash my mother once gave me. "They make you who you are."

"It's okay to have a few, maybe. How'd you get that one?"

"Dropped a batch of cupcakes."

"Must've been some sharp cupcakes."

"No. My mother... She was hard on us."

"Oh." She purses her lips, but she doesn't press the issue.

I smile at her. "I'm glad you came. I got you coffee, just the way you like it."

"How do you know how I like my coffee?"

"You told me."

"Right." She glances down to the large mug on the table between our two chairs. "Thank you." She brings the mug up and visibly relaxes as the hot liquid passes her lips. Her eyes flicker up to mine.

"You're even more beautiful in person," I tell her.

She frowns at me as she sets her mug back down. "You're nice looking, too."

"Thank you."

"Why did you tell me you live in New York?"

"I do. I'm home for the holiday."

"You grew up here?"

"Yes. Vick and I went to high school together."

"Oh... that means you graduated the year before I started. I was in Gale's class. We're four years younger than Vick."

"I see." She talks about Gale like he's still here. Or maybe like he's away on vacation. "You didn't tell me..." I trail off. Why would she tell me any more than she did?

She shakes her head. "About my husband? It didn't come up."

It kind of did, but I choose to let it slide. "What are you doing today?"

"Taking my sister to the doctor. She's had two episodes this week."

"Episodes?"

"Epileptic episodes. She has childhood epilepsy. They can't seem to get her medication right."

"Oh, right, you told me about her."

"Yeah. Her meds seem to work for a while, but then she still... seizes."

"Is that... scary?"

"It can be. If you don't know what's happening, sometimes her movements can be jarring to see. But, to me the worst ones are when she's not moving at all. A lot of kids seem to have it, where we're from."

"Where are you from?"

"Izmir," she says with a smile. I furrow my brow. "Turkey."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I think there have even been articles written in medical journals about our high epilepsy rates."

"Do you and your sister go home often?"

"We used to. But we haven't been back since our parents passed away. We have some extended family there, like my Uncle Haymitch, so I do hope to go see them eventually."

"Do you speak Turkish?"

"Of course. It's my first language."

"You don't have an accent or anything."

She chuckles a little. "Everyone has an accent, Peeta. What about you? Speak any other languages?"

I shake my head. "I took Spanish in high school, but all I can remember is how to ask where the bathroom is. My family is from America as far back as we can trace on my father's side. England before that on my mother's."

"That explains the blond hair and blue eyes."

"Doesn't it?" I smile. "You were born in Turkey?"

She nods. "Moved here when Prim was two."

"So is that why you celebrated St. Nick's?"

"Yeah. In Izmir, that's the big celebration day. Well, that and New Years. But since we live in America, we celebrate on the 25th, too."

"Do you have a tree?"

"No. Do you?"

"Definitely. An eight-foot tall Douglas fir. My brothers and I decorated it together at Thanksgiving."

"That sounds nice."

I nod. "It was." I sigh. "Well, my favorite part of the holidays is the food. Do the Turkish eat Turkeys? Or is that cannibalism?"

She chuckles. "Haha, like I never heard that one before. Yeah, we make turkeys. And we make our traditional dishes, too. Like lahmacun."

"You know, I've never eaten Turkish before." She narrows her eyes at me. "_Food_! Turkish _food_! I've never eaten Turkish _food_ before." I watch a smile spread across her lips. "I haven't eaten _anything_ Turkish."

"Do you want to?" I raise an eyebrow at her. "_Food_!" she clarifies. She brings her hands to her face. "Oh, God, I mean I could make you some _food_."

"Really?"

She nods her head. "Vick says you're a good guy. And you already know my dirty little secret, so I figure, why not?" I smile. "Just dinner."

"You mean a date?"

"No. My little sister will be there."

"Is this a date?"

"This is coffee."

"You don't expect this to go well, do you?" I ask.

"I don't know what to expect. I just know you'll have to be patient with me."

I smile. I can't help but hope to prove her wrong. "Okay."

"Do you like lamb?" I nod my head. "Okay, then. Tomorrow night? Dinner's at 8."

**Katniss POV**

This was a shitty idea.

I yank a glass of water off the counter and hurl it at the wall. It shatters and I deflate. I roll my eyes. All I've done is create more work for myself.

"Kat? What's wrong?" Prim calls from the couch.

"Nothing, little duck. I just... _missed him_ again, for a second."

She stands up and makes her way into the kitchen. I'm kneeling down, picking up the large pieces of glass. "Don't!" I scold as I see her shadow behind me. I accidentally squeeze the glass in my hand, slicing open the pad of my thumb. "Shit!" I look down as my blood falls to the floor in thick drops.

"Katniss?"

"Could you get the vacuum?" We have an 8-lb Oreck. Even on a bad day, she should be able to get it for me. I throw away the glass I've collected then run my thumb under cool water in the sink. I'm bleeding so I wrap a paper towel around my thumb.

There's a knock at the door and it startles me. I take a deep breath before opening the door. Peeta's on the other side.

"Hi," I say as I walk away from the door. I take the vacuum from Prim and plug it in.

"Hi," Peeta says as he steps inside after me. He shuts the door behind him. "Should I lock it?"

"It locks automatically. Hold on a sec," I say and then I turn on the vacuum. I do my best to get all of the glass up, covering an area large enough that hopefully I get the pieces that have slid farther away. I turn off the vacuum to find Peeta standing by the door. He's taken off his jacket and tucked it under his arm. There's a bottle of wine in his other hand and he stands confidently.

"Sorry," I say. "I broke a glass." I hold up my thumb. The bleeding has soaked through the paper towel.

Peeta tosses his coat over the back of the couch and crosses over to me. "Let me see that." He sets the bottle of wine down on the counter and I watch him as he inspects my cut. "You need a bandage on this." He looks up at me through golden blond lashes.

"So this is the guy?" Prim asks, breaking us out of our staring contest. "Ağzı dili yok."

"He talks plenty. Peeta, say 'hi' to Prim."

"I'm Peeta. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise. Welcome." Prim reaches for the first aid kit we keep in the kitchen and sets it on the counter in front of us.

Peeta looks around. His eyes fall on my walk-in-closet-turned-office, where I film my show. "It feels like I've been here before," he smiles. I shake my head at him. Prim doesn't know what I do. My show is on at midnight, hours after her meds have knocked her out. He sure as fuck isn't telling her right now. Peeta bandages my thumb and smiles. I pull my hand away from his grasp.

"Thank you. Can I get you some Sıcak Şarap?"

"What's that?"

"Oh, it's wine. Warm, with spices."

"Oh, like mulled wine?"

I furrow my brow. "I'm not sure how to make mulled wine."

"Do you put oranges and cinnamon in it?"

"Yes."

"It's probably similar then. Yes, I'd love some."

He's standing so close to me, I can feel the heat radiating off his body. He's not stocky at all. His chest is broad and his shoulders strong. I offer him a smile as I move around him in my small kitchen. I ladle out a mug of Sıcak Şarap for him.

"I made lahmacun," I tell him as I hand him the mug.

"What is that exactly?"

"Dough, with meat and vegetables."

"Oh, okay."

"And there's always hummus. And special bread."

Peeta spits a mouthful of Sıcak Şarapback into his mug and coughs. Prim gives him a confused look.

"It's hot," he lies. "Special bread?" he asks me.

"Yes... It puffs up," I demonstrate with my hands. Prim is paying attention, so I just move on with the conversation. "It's made with sesame seeds and egg though, so if you're allergic-"

"I'm not."

"Good," Prim says. "We were going to eat in front of the TV. Do you like the movie _**Elf**_?"

Peeta nods. "I love it."

Prim serves herself while I make plates for myself and Peeta. I spoon hummus onto his plate and top a large piece of lahmacun with parsley and tomatoes. I put a slice of lemon on his plate and hand it to him. We settle in front of the screen and Prim and I dig in. Peeta hesitates.

"You don't like it?" I ask. Oh no, if he doesn't like my cooking, I can't see this going anywhere. Wait, what?

"It smells great. I was just watching you both to see how to eat it."

"Oh. Like pizza," I tell him. I help him bring the food to his lips.

"Mmm," he nods as he chews. "Good. Oniony."

"That's what the lemon is for," Prim says. She swallows a mouthful of lahmacun then squeezes her eyes shut as she brings the sour lemon to her lips and bites.

"It cleanses the palate," I tell Peeta. "The lemon and the parsley keep the bad breath away."

A proud smile crosses my face as I see Peeta take another bite. "So, is this what I'd find at a Turkish restaurant?"

"Yes, but with more spices. I tone it down, because it comes out of your pores."

"Well, it's delicious."

We eat and laugh together, and I can't remember the last time life felt like this. Yes, I can. It was when Gale was alive. Gale ate lahmacun for the first time too, with me and Prim. And even though Peeta is doing a dead ringer impersonation of Gale's first time, I don't miss Gale right now. I miss this, the ease of sharing a meal with a man.

He finishes his food with a belch he tried to keep quiet. He doesn't seem to know what a compliment that is for me. I choose to let it go.

87 minutes and a full mug of Sıcak Şarap later, I drunkenly sit between Peeta and Prim on our couch, as the credits roll. I hear Prim snore lightly beside me. Her medication must have kicked in. I'd better move her before she gets into too deep a sleep to be moved.

"I'll be right back," I whisper to Peeta.

I half drag/half carry Prim to her bed.

"Peeta seni seviyor," she tells me, speculating that Peeta likes me.

"Belki," I reply as I set her on her bed. I'm not sure if he does. "Allah rahatlık versin."

"Goodnight, Kat," she replies as sleep takes her over.

I slowly make my way out of her room and I shut the door behind me. When I get back to the living room, Peeta is no longer on the couch. He's opened the door to my office - why would he do that? And he's leaning against the doorway. I clear my throat as I approach.

"Why do you do this?" he asks.

"You already know why," I sigh. "I started after the fire. Funeral costs, estate taxes. On top of Prim's medical bills, which I've been taking care of for years."

"Yeah, but-"

"Rent. Car note. Electric, heat and hot water, food, netflix, electronics!"

"I get it. I'm an adult, too. But, Katniss, there are other ways."

"What other ways? Without compromising my salary."

Peeta turns to me. "Of course your salary is high. You're having sex for a living."

"No, I'm not. I'm an entertainer. I'm safe in my house, away from everyone. Except you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I think having you here is confusing."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No. But you have to decide, Peeta. Do you want Katniss? Or _GirlonFire_? You can't have it both ways."

"I want Katniss."

"Why?"

"Because _GirlonFire_ isn't real."

"She's real enough to make you hard. Make you cum."

"No. You do that."

"Then you have to treat the situation like what it is. We met a couple of nights ago. Vick set us up. No history. No nothing."

"I'm supposed to stand here and pretend I don't know how wet your pussy gets?"

Damn.

"You're supposed to give me time to show you how-"

"I already know how." He picks up the candle next to my g-spot stimulator. "I don't like this. The things they make you do."

"No one _makes_ me do anything."

"You give them control."

"I give the illusion of control."

He reels back, as if he's been slapped. "Is it an illusion for me too?"

I look away. "I don't know."

My body tenses as he quickly closes the distance between us. He leans over me, resting a hand on the wall. His hand comes up to cup my jaw.

"I want control," he says. His voice is deep. He's serious. His eyes bore into mine.

"You're in control," I whisper.

His eyes drop to my lips. "Is it real this time?"

"Yes."

The word is barely out of my mouth before he crashes his lips against mine. He moves quickly, desperately, but as I wrap my arms around his waist and pull him closer, he relaxes. His lips move slower against mine. He takes his time, exploring me with care. We've been intimate for weeks, but this is our first kiss. Even though it doesn't feel like the first time.

He pulls his lips from mine. Our bodies are close. I can feel his breath on my skin.

"Peeta," I moan.

"Tell me it's real," he demands.

"It's real."

"How do I know?"

His hand slides from my face to my neck and I tense as his fingertips graze the raised pink skin that wraps around.

"That's how."

He narrows his eyes at me.

"No one's ever touched me here." He pushes my hair out of the way and I turn my head to the side. He can't see the full extent of them, but it's definitely more than any other man has seen. "Only you."

He leans in and kisses my collarbone. His lips linger on the taut raised marks streaked across my skin. I shudder. His kisses trail slowly from my collarbone to my jaw. Each and every one makes my knees weak. The confidence of his kiss is matched only by the uncertainty of his hands. I can feel them hovering over my body. He wants to touch me. But he doesn't.

"Katniss," he moans against my skin.

I try to hold back a whimper, but it escapes my lips. The sound forces Peeta's movements to still.

"Do you want this?" he asks.

I look into his eyes and hold his gaze for a moment before answering. "Yes."

He smiles. "Me too..." He pulls away. "We should slow this down."

I furrow my brow. I'm confused.

"We just met, Katniss, at Vick's party." He brings the hair he brushed over my shoulder back to cover my neck.

I listen to his words, but I'm not entirely convinced I'm hearing him right.

"I'm going to go now." I frown in disappointment. "But, I'll call you tomorrow."

I nod. He's in control. "Okay."

* * *

Turkish words and phrases came from Google translate and for the idioms.

Info on epilepsy came from WebMD.


	3. Chapter 3

**The feedback on this chapter is that it gets a little dark, and I agree that it does, and so I'm posting the lyrics to the Slow Club song that was the prompt for this story. ****I think it will help:**

_It's okay to have scars, they will make you who you are._  
_It's okay to have fears, as long as you're not scared of coming here._  
_And in the middle of the night, call if you want to talk,_  
_'cus you know, that I want to talk too._

_And it's not bad if you too think of what might go wrong,_  
_but you can't blame me for secretly hoping that I'll prove you wrong._  
_It's okay, that I pray, that you will miss your flight, and have to stay with me another night._

_And it's brutal, it's brutal, why can't you see?_  
_It's brutal, it's brutal, where have you been?_  
_'Cus we're far apart and my lonely heart finds it hard to get through the night._  
_You pull me out of the dark and now it's light._  
_You pull me out of the dark and now it's light._

_When we're out in the market, and out on the streets,_  
_I've got a pocket full of problems and a pocket full of seeds._  
_Hoping something good might grow out of this mistletoe,_  
_and I won't have to remain to memory._

_I like the way that our arguements stop when we fall asleep,_  
_and the way that your body feels when it's wrapped around me,_  
_and I'd like it, if you made it to mine by Christmas Eve_  
_so you can hold me._

_And we'll watch Christmas TV._

_So come on home, __just come on home._

**Triggers: Light BDSM, Breathplay & Alcohol Use. ****Please do not read if any of these things are a problem for you.**

******After this theres the epilogue. Hope you enjoy. Don't forget to review!**

* * *

**Peeta POV**

It's cold outside. I stuff my hands into my pocket as I roll my eyes at myself. How did I get roped into this again? Every year, my family's bakery is a vendor at the open aired Christmas market. And every year I'm out here freezing my balls off. My fingers brush against something scratchy. A paper? I pull it out of my pocket and find the receipt for the dinner from the last date I took Delly on. $78 for sushi. What bullshit. $78 spent on Katniss gets me so much more. I shake my head at myself. That wasn't a fair comparison.

Or was it?

I don't know.

I push the dilemma aside as I toss the receipt into the trash, along with any other Delly-related problems I've been holding on to. I focus on the good. I ignore my mother's judgmental stare as I reach for my phone.

"Be back," I announce as I take a few steps away.

"Where are you going?" Mother asks. I ignore her.

I take a few more steps away and I call Katniss. I have to plug my free ear in order to block out the noise from the market around me. Her phone rings several times before she picks up.

"Hi, Peeta," she greets me cheerfully. There's a lot of background noise on her end, too.

"Hi."

"Was there something I can do for you?" she asks. My dick twitches in my pants. "Wait, shit, that's not what I meant."

I clear my throat. I'm glad I'm not the only one struggling with this. "I'm at this thing with my family."

"A thing?"

"Yeah, a Christmas thing."

"Okay."

"And, well... all I can think about is you."

I can almost hear her smile through the phone. "I was just thinking about you, too."

"What should we do about this, Katniss? Clearly, we're crazy about each other."

I'm only half joking, but she laughs...and she doesn't deny it.

"Well, I'm out shopping right now."

"At the mall?"

"The Christmas market," she clarifies.

"Really? I'm here too."

"Are you following me?"

There's a hint of seriousness in her voice, but I ignore it and chuckle. "No, my family's bakery has a booth set up here."

"Oh yeah! The place with the cheese buns, right?"

"Yeah. How did you-"

"I get them every year."

How have I never seen her here before? "Well, if you come visit me, we could spend a little time under the mistletoe. There's a cheese bun in it for you."

"Are you bribing me?"

"No, I'm offering a trade. 30 seconds of whatever I want gets you one cheese bun."

"That's a steep price."

"We're in public. My options are limited. I think it's fair."

She laughs. "Where's your booth?"

"Do you have a map of this place?"

"I think so." I hear her shuffle the phone. "Yeah."

"A32."

"Okay. Get your lips and buns ready for me," she teases.

"See you soon." I end the call.

I make my way back to the booth and am relieved to find that my mother is gone. Rye's here though, ever the obnoxious jerk.

"What's with the shit-eating grin?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yeah, you do. You were on the phone, smiling like a fucking idiot. You sprung on some chick?"

No sense in denying it. She'll be here soon, and he'll tease either way. "She'll be here in a minute. Don't be an asshole, okay? She's sort of skittish."

"I'll be a gentleman," Rye promises. I roll my eyes and turn to lift up a pitcher of hot chocolate. The one that's already out is low.

"Well hello, beautiful," I hear Rye say.

I turn around to find him leaning on the table, making eyes at Katniss.

"Katniss, Rye. Rye, Katniss." I say, not giving his behavior any attention.

"This is your girl?" I half nod/half shrug. "Wow, good for you, Peet. Too good for you, actually. She looks like a keeper."

"Thank you. Sorry to say, but I'd throw you back," she teases.

He raises his eyebrows. "And she's funny, too."

Her eyes dart over to me and we share a tense moment. But she recovers, smiling and leaning over the table to meet Rye. I watch with a smirk.

"I think I'll call you 'almost,'" she says sweetly.

"'Almost?' Why would you call me 'almost?"

"Because," she begins, "You're 'almost' as charming as the last man who told me I'm funny." She turns to me. "Hi, Peeta."

"Hi, Katniss." I lean over the table, ignoring Rye, and kiss her cheek. Rye scoffs. "Where's Prim?"

"She's home resting. I didn't want her to overexert herself today. It's cold out here. So...where's this mistletoe?"

"We don't have any hung up at our booth, but I bet someone here does." I hand her a warm cheese bun. "Let's go find it."

"Sure."

I feel Rye's gaze on me, but I don't look back. I take off my apron and step out of the booth.

"What are you doing here today?" I ask her.

"Shopping."

"Shopping for?"

"Knitted goods. I find the best ugly Christmas sweaters here."

"Okay then."

We walk in silence, exchanging small smiles. We reach a thick part of the crowd and her hand finds mine. Our fingers intertwine and I can feel her warmth, even through our gloves. I smile, never wanting to let go. We soon find some mistletoe. I bring my hands to her hips and I kiss her slowly. I set the pace, and Katniss opens her mouth, letting me deepen our connection. When we pull away, she's breathless. I'm intrigued by the rhythm of her uneven-sounding pants, as her breath evens out.

I take her hand in mine again and we continue to meander through the market. When we reach a booth filled with alpaca knit sweaters, scarves, and other accessories, Katniss's smile widens.

"I wish I could make things this beautiful."

"Can you knit?"

"No. I can crochet a little, but nothing like this."

"You should learn," I suggest.

"I would. If I had the time."

I nod. "You have a lot on your plate."

"Yeah. Things pick up in January. My last semester."

"Really? Then you'll have your M...S?"

"MSW."

"Gotcha. Oh, look at that," I gesture to a basket filled with small accessories. Knitted fingerless gloves, it looks like. I pick one up and my mouth falls open. These aren't fingerless gloves.

Katniss's eyes dart between my hands and my eyes.

"Well," she says finally breaking the silence between us. "I've never seen knit _handcuffs_ before."

I drop them back into the basket.

She stares at the basket contemplatively. "Kind of appropriate. Don't you think?"

I know exactly what she means. What I wouldn't give to use these on her. To have her under my control. Knit handcuffs, much more intimate than cold metal.

I nod my head slowly.

She picks a pair up from the basket. "So, what kind of accounts do you work on?"

She's making small talk, like I'm not supposed to notice her walking over to the cashier.

"Oh... Viacom mostly. The stupid short-lived show promotions. Remember 'Bully Beatdown?'" I pull some money from my pocket and thrust it in the direction of the cashier. "I get the shitty shows no one ever remembers."

"You do a lot of MTV stuff?" She tucks the handcuffs into her purse.

"Uh-huh," I say. I nod at the cashier and we leave the booth. "I'm up for a promotion soon."

"That's great."

We're walking through the market again. Her hand finds mine again. Neither of us mentions the handcuffs.

"I hope you get it."

"Thanks."

"Dude, Mom's looking for you," Rye says. When I turn to face him, his eyes are focused on our intertwined fingers.

"Okay. I'll be right there." I turn back to Katniss. "Sorry. My family gets really jittery at Christmastime. Actually, all the time." She smiles.

"I wonder why that would be." Mother's voice rings through the air. "Who is this?"

"Katniss Hawthorne," Katniss says. She extends her hand.

Mother eyes her, and then accepts her outstretched hand. She offers Katniss small tight-lipped smile, but doesn't say anything else.

"Peeta, we need you to help pack up. Market's closing in half an hour," Mother says.

"Okay." I turn back to Katniss. "I have to go. But, I'll call you later."

"Dude, why doesn't she come by the house?" Rye asks.

"What?" Katniss and I say in unison.

"Yeah, we're making garland. You should do it with us. Right, Mom?"

Mother doesn't answer.

"Oh… well I have my little sister," Katniss says.

"Prim could come," I offer. I don't really want them to come. I don't want to subject them to my family so soon. But Rye put it out there, and I can't lose control.

"You sure?" she asks.

"Yeah. I'll text you the address. It's only a few blocks from your place." Rye gives me a knowing look, and I punch him in the arm. "See you soon."

**Katniss POV**

We're walking a thin line here.

I glance over at my desktop, and remember that I'm scheduled to resume my show on the 26th. Peeta flies back to New York on the 26th. Will he watch my show? If he calls me that night, will it be on my phone or my computer?

"Computer," I whisper to myself. That's my best guess. What's happening between us is strange, barely a fling. It would be different if we lived in the same city, I suppose. But once distance becomes a factor again, I suspect it might be easier to fall back into our original relationship.

Even though he is the first man I've kissed since Gale.

Even though I'm on my way his house right now.

And even though the knit handcuffs from the market are sticking out of my purse.

I tuck the evil little reminder of my clusterfuck of a dating situation back into my purse, and I rub my face with my hands. This is confusing. I grab a smaller wristlet out of my pile of bags and fish out my license, keys, phone, and money.

"Peeta evine ne kadar uzakta?" Prim asks. She's leaning against the front door. Her coat is already on and she's waiting for me.

"It's only 5 blocks. But it's cold out. We'll drive."

"Okay, let's go then!"

"Coming, little duck." I dump my purse down next to the couch. "Let's go."

**Peeta POV**

The doorbell rings and immediately, I perk up. Rye furrows his brow at me.

"What's your problem, man? You excited to see carolers?"

I ignore his jests as I make my way over to the door. Katniss is on the other side. I open the door and greet her with a smile. I point up towards the mistletoe, and lean in, planting a quick kiss on her cheek. In the same motion, I kiss Prim's cheek too.

"Come in," I gesture for them to enter. "We just started making garland." I take their coats, hanging them up and then I lead them to the living room.

"Katniss, Prim, these are my brothers, Rye and Dorian. And my father."

"Pleasure to meet you," Katniss says.

"You can call me Will," Dad says.

"Nice to meet you," Katniss smiles. "What are we making garland out of?"

"Popcorn and cranberries."

"Cool," Prim says. She takes a seat next to Dorian. We listen to Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Jordan sing _Baby, It's Cold Outside_ as we all work together. The playlist continues with an instrumental version of _Jingle Bells_, allowing for conversation.

"Why do you wait until Christmas Eve to make your garland?" Prim asks us.

"So that it's fresh. Otherwise the cranberries shrivel up and the popcorn gets stale and flakes," Rye tells her.

"Do you like stringing popcorn?" Dorian asks Prim.

"Yeah. We used to do it with Gale. Except we didn't mind ours getting stale."

"Who is Gale?" Mother asks, stepping in from the kitchen.

"My husband," Katniss answers. I feel my family's gaze on me. "He passed away ... two Christmases ago. The fire in the rec center."

"I remember reading about that," Dad says.

"Holy shit!" Rye yells. "Are you the chick who saved all those kids?"

"I got three out. Gale was trying to find a little girl. Rue. But it was… smoky and by the time I went back for him…" she trails off.

I cover my hand with hers. "He would be proud of you."

"You married young," Mother comments.

Katniss shrugs. "We were together since high school." She stands and brings her string of garland to the fireplace. "Here?" she asks.

"I'll show you." I get up and help her hang it. Our fingertips touch and she looks at me. For a moment, it feels like we're the only two people in the room. But, only for a moment.

"So tell me, Dear. Are you Christian?"

"Mom," I interject. I glare at her. She rolls her eyes and turns her attention back to Katniss.

"Not exactly. I'm technically registered as Muslim back home, but that's just the default and no one ever changes it. I'm not observant."

"I see."

"Is that a problem?" Katniss asks her.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Does my religious background concern you?"

"I just wonder what you're doing here. We're celebrating a Christian holiday, after all."

"It's an American holiday too, and I'm American."

"Oh, good. You already have a green card then?" My hands clench into fists.

"I'm a citizen. Besides, there's a cultural component to the 'holiday season.'"

"So you're here to eat fruit cake and watch Christmas TV?"

"No. I don't like fruit cake. I'm here to spend time with my family and friends." She gestures to Prim and myself, respectively.

"Well, you just go ahead and do that," she smiles. "Excuse me. Peeta, help me bring out the hot chocolate." She stands and walks into the kitchen. I smile softly at Katniss before following my mother.

I choose not to make a scene over that inappropriate line of questioning. The walls in this house are paper thin. "Should we use cinnamon sticks or candy canes for garnish?" I ask.

"I want that trash out of this house."

"What? What are you talking about?" I ask as I move around the counter, setting the candy cane themed mugs onto the tray.

She stirs hot chocolate in a pot with a wooden spoon. "Mayor Undersee's daughter is home from college. You should call her."

"Why would I do that?"

"You need to find yourself a nice Christian girl. You think that Muslim harlot's going to marry you in a church?"

"Don't call her that."

"Well, she's not. That's if she marries you at all. Widows carry a lot of baggage. Are we sure that teenager out there is her sister?"

"Why are you such a bigot?"

I feel the sting of hot liquid and wood on the back of my hand. I flinch. "Ouch!" The surprise quickly wears off. I snatch the spoon from Mother's hand and toss it across the kitchen and into the sink. I spin on her. "I am_ not_ a child."

"You're _my_ child."

"Not anymore. And you're wrong about her."

Her lips turn up into a sneer. "Just know that no half-breed _children_," she forces out the word like it's venom, "will be welcome in this house."

"Mother. It's only Christmas Eve. You should've waited until tomorrow to give me my gift."

I pour the hot chocolate into the mugs and top them with whipped cream, ignoring the sting on the back of my hand. I feel my mother's gaze on my back while I work. I don't spare her another glance as I carry the tray into the living room.

When I get there, the silence is deafening. My father, ever the complacent doormat, barely shrugs his shoulders and nods his head towards the front door. Katniss and Prim are putting on their coats quite hurriedly. I set the tray down and walk over to her.

"Sallanma," she says to Prim. She's snapping her fingers, hurrying Prim up.

"Okay," Prim says as she wraps her scarf around her neck.

"Katniss?" I ask.

"Don't." She turns to Prim. "Gidelim."

"I'm sorry," I say. She closes the door behind her.

Fuck.

I've lost control. A few minutes later, I lay in darkness on my stomach on the twin-sized bed in my old room. I can hear the faint yells of my parents arguing downstairs. They're fighting about me. Again.

"He finally brings a girl home, and you scare her off!" Dad yells.

"That girl was a whore!" Mother sneers.

My phone buzzes with a text from Finn.

_Annie dumped me and your room is empty. What the fuck is going on, bro?_

I scoff. Like I give a shit about that situation anymore. I take another swig of bourbon from the bottle I'm nursing. My mother is wrong about Katniss. It's too early to be thinking about this stuff anyway. Her religious background doesn't matter to me. And if it were important to me, I bet she'd get married in a church. She has before. Wait, what? I push myself up off of the bed.

She has before.

I dig through a box of crap in the closet. I push aside my old concert and movie stubs, rave flyers, and the scores of business cards I collected in college. When I find what I'm looking for, I smile.

**Katniss POV**

I take a swig of Rika directly from the bottle and barely bat an eyelash as Bernie Mac gets smushed between two cars. Fuck that little elf, what's his fucking problem anyway?

"You suck," I tell the screen. I take another swig.

Willie's not such a bad guy. He's just sick of the holidays. I can understand that. I'm sick of them too. Despite losing my husband during Christmastime, I've tried to hang on to the spirit of the season and not turn into the drunken depressed mess I currently am. But fuck it. I'm just a Muslim harlot. I probably have no business celebrating the season anyway.

I hear a faint thumping and wonder "what now." Prim went to bed hours ago.

The thumping doesn't stop so I look around. It's the front door. I know who it is. I don't realize just how drunk I am until I try to stand. To say my legs are wobbly is an understatement.

"What do you want?" I yell as I stumble over to the door.

"Open the door, Katniss," Peeta says from the other side.

"No!"

I hear a loud sigh. "I'm cold. I walked all the way here. Open. The. Door."

I unlock the door and fling it open. "Who told you to do that?" My eyes fall on Peeta. He looks almost as drunk as I am.

"I wanted to see you." He reaches for the open bottle in my hands and takes a swig.

"Go home. Your mother wouldn't approve of you being here."

"Ugh, what the fuck is this?"

I take the bottle back from him. "Rika."

"It tastes like licorice."

"It'll put some hair on your chest," I jest.

"I deserve that," he says as he pushes past me. His shoulder bumps mine as he enters the apartment.

"I didn't say you could come in."

"We have to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Yes, there is. Why did you leave me today?"

I scoff. "Are you kidding? You didn't really expect me to stay there and be spoken about like that. _Did you?_"

"I expected you to wait for me to come with you."

I gesture to the clock on the wall. "Obviously that would've taken hours." He purses his lips. "If at all. Why do you care anyway? I'm just some trashy Muslim harlot who will never marry you, certainly not in a church."

He sighs. "I'm sorry you had to hear that. I told her she's wrong about you."

"But you don't know that, do you?"

"Yeah, I do." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out what looks like a beaten up piece of paper. I roll my eyes as little pebbles fall to the floor. He extends his hand to me. I take the paper from him and my eyes widen. It's a packet of seeds, the favor from my wedding. I look back up at him with a questioning look.

"You married Gale in a church."

"How did you-"

"I was there. I crashed. Vick snuck a bunch of us in. Sorry. I was a poor college student and you had a full buffet."

"Did you recognize me?"

"No. I was stoned pretty much that entire year. I put it together after you left today."

"What's this supposed to mean?" I ask.

"That I know more about you than either of us realized. We do have a little history after all."

I roll my eyes. "Just because I married Gale in a church doesn't mean I'd do it again."

"No one's asking you to do that."

"And just because you're part of the reason my wedding was over budget doesn't mean we're like kindred or anything."

"No one said that either. All I'm saying is that I know my mother is wrong about you. And even if she were right, I wouldn't give a shit." He closes the front door. "Will you talk to me now?"

I don't give him a yes. But I don't throw him out either. "I'm busy," I say. I flop down onto the couch and curl my feet under me.

"_**Bad Santa**_?" Peeta asks, taking note of the movie playing on the TV.

"I'm not in the mood for the sappy shit right now."

"I agree." He sits down next to me. He doesn't touch me.

I take another swig of my Rika, and quickly realize that it will be my last. Any more and my stomach will hurt. It's not meant to be enjoyed straight like this anyway. I lean forward, setting the bottle onto the coffee table.

"Your mother's a bitch."

"You noticed?" he says as he settles into the couch.

I look at the ugly purple mark on his hand. "She still hits you?"

"Yeah," he nods. "I've done everything to make her stop, short of hitting her back. But she's sick. And she doesn't seem to realize that I'm twice her size now."

"Why do you let her?"

"I don't _let_ her. She caught me off guard. I disarmed her."

I roll my eyes. "I'm starting to see why control is so important to you."

His eyes dart over to the bulletin board in the kitchen, overflowing with paperwork. "And I see why you don't mind giving it up."

I close my eyes and lean my head back. "Whatever, Peeta." I drift away.

**Peeta POV**

"Katniss?" I ask. She's humming lightly to herself.

"What?"

"I don't want to argue anymore."

"Me neither."

"I'm sorry," I tell her. "You never have to see her again."

"You can't promise that. If this goes anywhere, I'll have to see her again."

"Do you want this to go somewhere?"

She shrugs her shoulders. "I don't know. We just met."

"Yeah."

"Peeta?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think I'm a whore? I mean, you watch my show."

"I ...can see how your job could give that impression. I mean, even if it isn't actual sex, men do see your body. You do cum."

She laughs. "Its not always men. And it's not always sexual for me, like it is with you. I don't always cum. Most of the time, I'm trying not to laugh."

"What do you mean?" I lean forward and take another taste of the Rika. I hide a grimace. It's disgusting.

"I mean, people request all kinds of shit."

"Like what?"

"Well…One guy wanted to watch me eat a cheeseburger. Then throw it up."

"You're kidding."

"Nope."

"Did you?"

"Yeah. He tipped well."

"But that's so..."

"Don't judge. You've got to look at it like a game of truth or dare." She raises an eyebrow at me. "If Vick dared you to eat a burger and throw it up, then promised to give you $75, you wouldn't do it?"

"Would Vick be jerking off at the time?"

"Don't be an asshole."

I shrug a shoulder. "I probably would," I admit.

"You're a cheap date. My price was $150. Plus the cost of the cheeseburger."

I smile. "Are your callers all so...?" I shake my head, unable to find the right word.

"No...Like, some people want me to eat something or sit in something like paint, or pudding. But other people want me to pretend to be someone else, like a celebrity, so I have to dim the lights or wear a wig. But sometimes it's like... an alien or a fucking leprechaun."

"You had to pretend to be a leprechaun?"

She nods. "I wore green underwear and said 'top of the morning to ya!' Didn't even have to show him my tits to make him cum."

"That's crazy."

"You really shouldn't be so quick to judge. I see all types. Including yours."

"I have a type?"

"Mmhmm."

"What's my type?"

"The nice guy who wants to fuck me to feel grounded." I narrow my eyes at her. "Thankless job, abusive parents, I'm guessing your last girlfriend broke up with you?" I don't answer. "I'm not judging you, Peeta. I'm just as fucked up as you are."

"I broke up with her." She raises an eyebrow at me. "After I caught her cheating on me."

She nods her head knowingly. "Let's not get into the psychology behind it."

"Well then... I think I'm standing in a glass house on this one."

"Because you pay for me to get you off?"

"Yeah."

"How can you afford all those chats anyway? I must collect a buck fifty from you every week."

I shrug. "Disposable income."

"Must be nice."

"I can spend that money differently now. Will you let me take you out on a date?"

She laughs. "Of all the things you promised, not once was taking me out on a date one of them."

"That's not true. I said I'd take you ice skating."

"You also said you'd hold me down and fuck me."

I don't answer. The words hang in the air for a long moment. I swallow hard.

"And... Make you take every last inch of me."

She leans back, resting her elbows on the arm of the couch. Her knees fall open.

"And fuck me hard. Fast." Her right hand drifts down her body and she rubs herself over her pajamas. "And make me scream your name."

"Fuck," I say as I move closer. She rests her head on the arm of the couch. I lean over her, holding myself up with my hands on either side of her. "Say you want it." I press my hips against hers, letting her feel my hardness. "Say you want me to fuck you."

Her eyes don't leave mine. But there's a moment of silence. My heartbeat quickens and the anticipation is killing me.

"Peeta," she begins. I raise my eyebrows. Her voice is like velvet. I tear my eyes from hers and let them wander down her body. She's perfect. Barely touched. "Fuck me."

I lower myself and press my lips against hers. I settle between her legs, and rest my weight on her.

My left hand moves down to cup her ass and my right hand palms her breast. "Open your mouth," I mumble against her. She obeys. She always obeys. I slide my tongue into her and explore her again. She tastes bitter from the alcohol and she feels soft and warm. Her hands are on either side of my head, twisted in my hair, pulling me closer. She wants this just as much as I do. I grind my hips against her again and she wraps her legs around me.

"Oh," she moans.

My hand sneaks under her T-shirt and she gasps as I pinch a nipple. That sound. I need her to make it again. I pinch again, but she only moans softly. So I twist. She whimpers into my mouth. I was hard before, but now I could hold up a wet washcloth.

I pull away, sitting back on my haunches, taking in the sight of Katniss spread before me. My hand seems to move on its own, sneaking past the waistband of her pajamas. She's not wearing any underwear. I slide a finger along her opening, feeling her wetness for the first time. As my fingertip finds her clit, she shudders.

"You're going to do as I say," I tell her as I slip a finger inside of her.

Her breath is ragged. She nods. "Yes, Peeta," she pants as I add a second finger and pump them in and out of her. "Tell me what to do."

I withdraw my fingers from her and bring then to my mouth. I close my eyes. I've never tasted anything like her before. When I open my eyes again, she's watching me suck my fingers clean of her. "Your pussy really does taste like red wine."

She smiles mischievously at me as she stands.

"I guess now you've tasted Turkish _everything_," she snorts. She's wobbly on her feet as she pulls her pajama bottoms off.

She's drunk. I'm drunk. One of us should stop this. We've gone too far already. But I can't find the words to stop her as she pulls her shirt over her head. I'm sitting on the couch with my mouth open. She stands in front of me with her hands on her hips.

"Come here," I say. She takes a step closer to me. "Get on your knees."

I take off my shirt as she lowers herself. Her hands find my waist and she quickly unfastens my jeans. She pulls them over my hips along with my underwear. They pool around my ankles, but I don't kick them off. Katniss looks up at me, her grey eyes glazed over.

"Will you fuck my mouth, Peeta?"

I must be dreaming. This is too perfect. Katniss leans forward and wraps her lips around the head of my cock. Yep, dreaming. I groan as she takes me deeper. I try to be gentle. I try to watch as she strokes my length, running her tongue up and down my shaft. But then I remember that she asked me to fuck her mouth. So I do.

I collect her long dark hair in my hands and wrap it around my right hand once. I use this to control her. I move my hips, thrusting into her mouth. She moans and the vibrations of her voice drive me insane. I thrust deeper into her, and feel the tip of my cock hit the back of her throat. She doesn't gag, so I do it again. When she moans around me, I move faster. "Fuck," I pant. How is she _this_ good at giving head? I tug on her hair, pulling her away, before I blow my load.

I don't let go of her. I lead her by her hair to sit back down on the couch. I unwrap her locks from my hand, and push her by her shoulders and onto her back. Her knees fall apart and I waste no time settling between them again.

Her back arches as I once again slide two fingers into her. I use my free hand to press down on her stomach, adding more pressure as I fuck her with my fingers. I move fast, and she gets wetter. I still can't believe how wet she gets. Soon my hand is soaked and I can't resist. I lower my head and lick her clean. I gently nip at her lips and drag my tongue though her folds. I softly but firmly bite again, smiling at the red marks I leave on her skin.

"Ahh, oooh," she moans, somewhere between pleasure and pain.

She's close, but I don't let her cum. She moans in protest as I push myself up and reach for my jeans. There's a condom in my wallet and I retrieve it in record time.

"Get them," I demand as I roll the condom down my shaft.

"Get what?"

"The handcuffs. Go get them."

Her purse is on the floor, next to the couch. She reaches for them from her seat. The long lines of her extended limbs cause me to stare. I watch as she settles back into the couch and slips her hands into the cuffs.

I tighten them.

I hold on tightly to the string between her wrists, keeping them pinned above her head as I hover over her. I lean down, kissing her lips. I feel her tug against the cuffs, but I hold her hands in place. I kiss her deeply, as I drag the tip of my cock along her slit. I feel her body tense beneath me as I slowly press into her.

"Oooh," she moans quietly as I fill her. I do as I once promised. I begin gently. I roll my hips, pressing my cock into her over and over. Her pussy is hot, tight and so fucking wet. It feels good. But I can tell she won't cum like this. And neither will I.

I hook the string between her hands over the decorative edging of the side table. She tugs once on it, and quickly realizes she's not moving.

"Peeta?" she questions. She looks up at me through glossy eyes.

I realize what I want. My cock twitches inside of her with anticipation. I lean down and kiss her once on the lips. Her body tenses as my right hand finds her neck. I trace her scars with my fingertips, then gently curl them around and rest my thumb on her throat.

And I push.

I thrust into her as I press down gently on her windpipe. She stares into my eyes. I can see a flash of panic, but she doesn't protest, doesn't shake her head no or even attempt to speak. Not even as it gets harder for her to breathe. I ease up, listening to her gasp for air. This is it. Exactly what I want. Full control of her.

"Good," I tell her. I press my hips against hers. "Breathe."

I change the pace. I keep a hand on her throat and the other on her hip and I fuck her as hard as I can. I'm breathing heavy and I'm covered in sweat. Then I slow down. Our hips are flush. I'm deep inside of her.

"Don't breathe," I tell her.

She nods, understanding what's coming.

I push down on her windpipe again. Her mouth falls open and she gasps for air again. My eyes widen as I watch her struggle. My lips curl into a smile. Nothing could make this moment any more perfect.

Or so I thought. I feel the intense pressure of her walls contract around my cock. Her eyes shut tight as she rides through her orgasm. I release my hold on her neck. And she gulps at the air again.

Shit.

I fuck her hard, before she has the chance to catch her breath. Her hands tug at the cuffs, and the yarn digs into her wrists. But I can't stop. She gave me control, full control. And I'm making use of it.

"Fuck!" I chant as I near my release. My balls tighten and my abdomen tenses. The pressure builds and when I finally cum, I swear it feels like a shotgun. I still my movements as I empty myself into the condom. Katniss is beneath me. She's almost breathing normally again.

I hover over her and I release her hands. She immediately brings them to her throat. I expect her to feel her windpipe, but to my surprise, she only drags her fingers across her scars. It as if she's checking to make sure they're still there. I want to ask her if that was okay. Or had I crossed some line by taking control of her breath? But I'm still drunk, and my dick is still hard and she's still looking up at me.

"Was that real?" I ask.

"Yeah. Real." She swallows hard, and I worry I may have hurt her more than I intended. "Peeta?"

"Yes?"

"Stay?"

I nod my head. "Always."

**Katniss POV**

I wake up some time later to the sound of Peeta lightly snoring. I feel the rise and fall of his chest and his arms wrapped around me. I freeze. We're no longer on the couch. We're in my bedroom. I put my hands on him and push myself up to sit. I bring my hand to my neck. It hurts. I clear my throat and Peeta stirs.

"What are you doing here?"

"Sleeping," he replies as he reaches for me.

"You can't sleep here."

"I already am."

"I'm serious...you should've asked me first, Peeta."

He sits up and I look between us. We're both naked.

"You asked me to stay," he says.

I don't remember that. I don't remember what happened between arguing on the couch and now. I give him a confused look.

"You don't remember," he says flatly. He closes his eyes. "Shit."

"Peeta-"

"I knew you were drunk. Damn it, I shouldn't have-"

"Did we have sex?"

He looks up at me. "I'm gonna go." He hops out of the bed and begins looking for his clothes. I see the evidence of the evening I can't recall. Clothes in a pile, the knit handcuffs on the nightstand. As I move to the edge of the bed, I feel an ache between my legs.

"Peeta?"

He doesn't meet my eyes. "This was a mistake."

"Just wait a second."

"No. I've got to get out of here."

I stand, letting the covers fall away from my body. "Peeta!"

He pulls his pants over his hips and looks up at me. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?"

"I didn't mean to take advantage of you."

"You didn't."

He huffs out a loud breath. His eyes dart down to my breasts and back up. "Could you put some clothes on?" He shifts his hips.

I roll my eyes. "Sure." I reach down and grab the garment closest to me. It's Peeta's T-shirt. He yanks it from my hands.

"Not that. I can't handle seeing you in my clothes right now."

He pulls the T-shirt over his head. I find my underwear and quickly put it on.

"What happened?" He doesn't answer. "Please, tell me."

"I messed up." He runs his fingers through his hair. "I wanted to do this right with you, Katniss."

"Peeta, you're scaring me. Could you please calm down and tell me what's going on?"

He picks my shirt up off the floor and sits down next to me on the bed.

"Thank you," I say as I accept it and put it on.

"I didn't come here expecting this. I want you to know that."

"We had sex," I say.

He nods. "Yeah. If it comes back to you, it will seem like... Well... I was kind of... rough. I'm sorry."

"You hurt me," I say, circling my wrists. They're sore.

"A little."

"Did I ask you to stop?"

"No."

"Did you... Like it?"

"Yeah. A lot."

"Okay..."

"Katniss-"

"It's 4 a.m. Let's talk about this in the morning, okay?" I crawl back under the covers.

"You still want me to stay?"

"If that's what I said before."

"Are you sure?"

"Mmhmm. Take your pants off. Come hold me." I say sleepily.

Peeta sighs. I hear the zipper of his pants and feel the bed shift behind me. He doesn't say another word as he drapes his arm over me.

The sun is already up when I open my eyes again. I feel Peeta's fingertips on my skin, between my shoulder blades. The tears well up in my eyes and before long my body shakes with silent sobs. Gale is no longer the only man I've been with. I know it's healthy to move on, but it still hurts.

"Shh," Peeta says. He leans forward and kisses my shoulder. "I know what that meant for you. Thank you for sharing it with me."

He doesn't say anything else. We lay together. I keep my eyes shut as bits and pieces of last night become clear. Peeta wasn't gentle. But gentle wasn't what I needed. I needed it rough. I needed to feel the pain and the ache after so that I can know it was real.

"Merry Christmas," I finally whisper.

* * *

Turkish words and phrases came from Google translate and for the idioms.

Info on epilepsy came from WebMD.


	4. Epilogue

**Another thank you to the ladies who helped me with this story. MockingJayFlyingFree for holding my hand every step of the way, Lauralulubee and honeylime08 for prereading, and Chelzie for handling all things grammar. **

* * *

**ONE YEAR LATER**

**Katniss POV**

_Santa baby_ plays in the background and I move my hips in time with the music. My red teddy with furry white trim and Santa hat are ridiculous, but Peeta nods in approval.

He doesn't touch me, even though I know he wants to. I can tell by the look in his eyes and the bulge between his legs that's only getting bigger. He sits in a chair in the center of the room as I move around him, teasing him with small touches. When the music stops, I straddle him. I grind down on him and he tries to hold back a moan. He grabs my ass, letting me know he's done being patient. I kiss him and his hands wander. He begins to undress me. He tugs on the teddy and the flimsy thing shreds to pieces under his strong hands.

I stand and slowly push down my underwear, but I keep the hat on. I lie back on our bed and spread my legs as Peeta crawls towards me. His fingers quickly find my clit and I moan for him. He drags his fingertips through my folds, and then brings them up to my lips. I suck my desire off of his skin with a smile.

"This is the wettest pussy I've ever seen," he purrs as his hand drifts back down my body. He twists my nipple, eliciting a small gasp from me. He frowns. He doesn't want to hear that right now. It's confusing. I purse my lips and nod in understanding. He visibly relaxes, and then presses his fingers into me.

Warmth spreads through my body as his fingers move in and out. His free hand presses down on my abdomen. The pressure causes my knees to weaken. He pumps me to orgasm with little effort. I cum with a high-pitched cry, and finally he smiles.

"Turn over."

I roll onto my stomach and lift up onto all fours. Peeta spreads my legs and pushes down on my shoulders. My ass is in the air while I wait for him to fuck me. He teases my clit with the tip of his cock for a brief moment before plunging into me. His hands are on my hips as he fucks me hard. I've just begun to sweat when I feel him slap my ass.

"Your pussy is tight," he all but growls.

"Your cock is so big," I moan.

I reach down and move my fingers against my clit. I move quickly, but I can't reach it. I won't cum. But I don't stop. I know seeing me touch myself is encouraging.

"I'm close," Peeta warns.

"Cum inside of me," I encourage.

I shut my eyes as he spills himself inside of me. He moans as he finishes. I hear him take two deep breaths before he pulls out of me. His hands are still on my ass as he holds me open. I feel his gaze on me. He's looking at the space his body created in mine, watching his cum trickle out of my swollen pussy. He releases me and I moan as my body returns to normal.

The bed shifts and Peeta walks over to the computer. He unmutes the chat.

"...fucking creampie," one of the men says. I don't catch who spoke. "You fucked her good."

Peeta responds to him. "Yeah, she was a very good girl tonight."

"Loved the lap dance too," another user comments.

"Thank you._ Sexymorphlings6_ requested the dance," I say.

"And _Cinntavia_ requested the outfit," Peeta adds.

"How did that feel?" One of the women asks. _WirelessWiress80_, one of our newer members. "His cock looks big."

"He is big, and it felt amazing," I say as I reach between my legs and rub Peeta's cum on my clit. "I'm still wet, see?"

"That's all for tonight," Peeta says. I smile as I hear the protests coming from a dozen different screens. "We'll see you all next time. Don't forget to email your requests." He waves, then disconnects from the server. I'd scold him for disconnecting first, but I choose not to have that argument again. There's only a certain amount of control he's willing to give up. He's already moved out of his comfort zone by being on camera with me. I roll over, laying flat on my back, and shut my eyes.

Peeta sits down at the desk and looks through our email. "Another request for seeing you fucked in the ass," Peeta says.

"That's the line," I say. Peeta and I do enjoy anal sex, but never on camera.

"There is no line," Peeta chuckles. "Also _Beetee123_ wants me to cover you in chocolate and lick it up."

"Tell him we already did that, and then link him to the 20 second clip?" We tape all of our shows. "Leave out the part about your stomach ache though."

"Okay." I hear a few clicks of the mouse as Peeta sends the message. He sucks his teeth. "Another request for choking." Just like analplay, breathplay is absolutely off limits for us. In fact, breathplay has an important role in helping us reconcile our online relationship from our real life.

"Stop reading those," I tell him. "They're just going to upset you."

"Yeah, you're right." He pushes away from the desk. "You go through them and let me know what we're doing next, okay?"

I open my eyes. He's standing over me. But he's not touching me. He won't, until we shower.

"Why are their requests always so, I don't know, intimate?"

Breathplay is something Peeta feels is the height of our intimacy. It requires trust... And we've had our share of mishaps.

"What do you expect? You do to me what they wish they were doing to each other. Asking me how it feels? C'mon!"

When Prim and I moved to New York and into an apartment with Peeta over the summer, he insisted that I end my successful and lucrative show. We'd been together for 6 months, and he said he couldn't take it anymore. So this is the compromise, our own show. We have a niche market. A small but loyal following of couples, only couples, all of who are more than a little repressed in their own sex lives. We don't have a free show anymore. Just these private chats scheduled twice a week, under the username _ToastLove,_ for which we prescreen before accepting new members. Our take home is only a thousand bucks a week. But we don't do this for the money. Peeta's no longer a junior exec. He makes enough to support us. And even though I work part time as a social worker, I don't pay for much. Our needs are met. We do this because we're both still so fucked up. Me from being burned and widowed so young, him from growing up with abusive parents. This is how we cope. And therapy gets expensive.

"Why'd you mute them again?" I ask.

"I don't need them telling me what to do. I know how to fuck you."

"I don't want you driving any of them away."

Peeta scoffs. "They're not going anywhere. Haven't you seen yourself on video? You have no idea the effect you can have."

"But the women-"

"They're looking at you, too. Pretending to be you." I sit up and yank the stupid Santa hat off of my head. Peeta takes a step back. "I'll meet you in the shower."

"Okay." I sigh deeply. I don't really have the energy for this, but if I don't do it then things will be off between us for a week. I pull the red sheet off the bed and crumple it before tossing it into the designated laundry bag. I put "clean" sheets on the bed, and take my birth control pill. Then I make my way to the bathroom.

It's already foggy when I enter. I slide the shower door open and step inside. He's turned away from me, working up a thick lather of soap on his crotch. I squeeze some shower gel into a sparkly silver bath poof and wash my body. I step around Peeta. He leans against the tiled wall, already rinsed. I step under the hot water and wash the soap away.

Peeta pushes my hair aside, and he traces the pattern of my scars. I feel Peeta's fingertip draw two circles on my skin, which he follows with two taps.

"Now I've got my cootie shot," I laugh as I reach for his arm. I draw two circles then two squares.

Peeta's arm curls around my waist and he presses me up against the wall. He leans over me and lowers his lips to mine.

"That wasn't real," he says between kisses.

"No," I tell him. "That was for show. This is real."

His free hand lifts up my left leg and I wrap it around him. Then, his fingers curl around my throat. "And this is how I know," he says. I nod, anticipating the pressure.

He doesn't tell me he's sorry. I already know he is. I don't tell him he's in control. He already knows he is.

"I love you," he says. His voice cracks.

"I love you too," I tell him. My heart beats faster. Peeta kisses me once more.

"Don't breathe," he says as he pushes on my windpipe. I shut my eyes as my body tenses, struggling for air that I know he won't give me. Not yet, anyway. Sooner than I expect him to, his grip loosens. I'm barely panting. Peeta's head drops to my shoulder as he listens to me breathe.

"Good," he says. "That's what I want."

I reach down between us, and grab his flesh. He's hard. I guide him to my entrance.

His hips move against mine, and his hold on my neck tightens and releases in time with his thrusts. I'm forced to breathe with this rhythm. I take in gulps of air against Peeta's punishing strokes, which are enough to knock the wind out of me on their own. His body pins me against the wall, and his wet hair grazes my cheek as he fucks me. He listens to my labored breath and his grip tightens.

"Cum. Now."

I'm trying.

"You're close," he says.

He's right, I am. I try to focus of the feeling of him sliding in and out of my pussy, but my body is screaming for air. I can't moan, can't scream his name, can't do anything other than let him fuck me. And do as he asks. He told me to cum. He _needs_ me to cum. I bring a hand to his wrist. I'm running out of time. If I don't finish soon, I'll pass out, and neither of us gets what we want when that happens. I angle my hips, searching for friction against my clit. The hair at the base of his cock grazes me. Yes. That's it. His hips slam against mine again and the tension building inside of me snaps. My body contracts around him, and the friction between us changes with my release. His grip on my throat loosens immediately as my body milks him to orgasm.

"Fuck," he grunts into my ear.

I gasp, cough, and gulp at the hot air around us. Thankfully, the steam soothes my sore throat. I'm still catching my breath as Peeta sets me down. He keeps his hand on my neck as I catch my breath. I nod, letting him know I'm okay. He presses his lips to mine.

"It's late. Let's go to bed. I want to hold you."

I wake up the next morning alone, but I'm comforted by the smell of cinnamon and ginger in the air. I hurry out of bed and find Peeta in the kitchen making breakfast. I wrap my arms around him from behind and kiss his back. He spins around and kisses me properly. His tongue slides into my mouth as he lifts me up, hugging me tightly. I'm breathless when he releases my lips, and I feel him harden against me.

"Good morning," he says.

I open my mouth to respond, but instead another voice rings through the air.

"Good morning," Vick calls from the couch.

I turn my head to look at him. "Didn't mean to wake you."

He smirks. "You woke me last night. Twice," he says, standing up. He tosses his blankets onto the floor and stretches.

"Sorry," I say. Though I'm not.

"It's cool. Sounded fun, though."

"Shut up, dude. Prim will be out here soon," Peeta cautions.

"Okay, okay. So what's on the agenda for today? Christmas Eve in the city?"

"Breakfast," Peeta begins as he plates his famous gingerbread pancakes. "Then everyone opens one gift. Then we go see the tree."

"Sounds blessedly free of drama," Vick comments.

Peeta smiles at me. Our life together is relatively drama-free. And since we opted to spend the holidays here together, he's much more relaxed than he was last Christmas.

Prim comes in, humming _Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer_, and promptly turns on the television. The classic Rankin/Bass animated movie _**Santa Claus is Coming to Town**_ is on. We eat our breakfast with Christmas TV playing in the background.

Peeta's phone buzzes. He excuses himself from the table and answers the call.

"Katniss?" Vick asks me.

"Yeah?"

"Will you finally admit I was right?"

"No," I say quickly. He laughs. "I don't even know what you're talking about."

"You and Ralphie." He looks over at Peeta, who is leaning against the wall with his back to us, clearly lost in his phone call. "It's pretty serious now, isn't it?"

I shrug a shoulder. "You _are_ here, spending the holiday with us."

"No, I'm not. My flight is at 8. I'm spending the holiday at home. You two are the ones making a new home here."

"We three," Prim corrects. Since coming to New York, her condition has been managed better. Turns out, she'd outgrown her childhood epilepsy. Her small-town doctors didn't catch that she'd developed juvenile myoclonic epilepsy. Since moving here, she's been properly diagnosed and her medication switched to Depakote. The difference was immediate. Her seizures have been fewer, and her doctors here are much more attentive. She started high school in September, and loves it (as much as one _can_ love high school).

"I'm trying to," I tell Vick. I'm still not over losing Gale, not completely. There are still times when I miss him so much, I lash out. Only the feeling of Peeta moving inside of me can help tame those emotions. Our kitchen suffers the most losses. But Peeta never complains. He silently cleans up the broken shards of glass or porcelain. Then, he fucks me as hard as he can. On those days, it's never hard enough.

"Well, I'm happy for all of you," Vick says as he finishes his breakfast.

Peeta returns to the table. He kisses my cheek before sitting down. "Rye and Dorian send their love."

I smile. His brothers are great, and always send their regards. His parents, on the other hand, do not. We don't talk much about them, not since last Christmas, after our first time together. Peeta went home and made it clear that our relationship was something permanent. I would feel bad about having caused a rift between them, but I didn't actually do that. Not really. Peeta's refusal to be with a woman of his mother's choosing was the last straw a long line of issues that were growing decades before I became a factor. The space has been good, healthy for him even. His father still reaches out sometimes, wanting to "repair their relationship." But Peeta's angry with him. Negligence is abuse, too. Just because his father never actually hit him doesn't mean he was any less abusive than his mother was. I dread those days. Peeta deals by escaping into my body, and I allow him. His unresolved anger can be scary at times. Once, after a particularly long conversation with his father, he forgot to let me breathe. I woke up some time later cradled in Peeta's arms while he sobbed into my hair.

He's still learning what it means to have control.

When breakfast is finished, Prim offers to do the dishes. I help her. We sing along to the end of the movie as I wash and she dries. We really should get a dishwasher.

"Come on, ladies. I don't have all day," Vick complains, pulling us from our little bubble.

"Okay, okay." Prim says as she hurries back into the living room. She sifts through the gifts. "This one's for Vick," she says as she tosses him a small box. She returns to the pile. Vick tears open the box, revealing his very own copy of _**A Christmas Story**__._

"Very funny, jerks," he laughs. Peeta and I join him.

"This one's for Peeta."

I take note of the box she's set in his lap. I put my hand over his. "Don't open that here," I say quietly.

"And this one's for Kat." She pulls out a tiny bag. "This one, right, Peeta?"

"Yeah."

"And this one's for me!" Prim sits back. "Okay! Open 'em!"

"After you, little duck."

"Okay." She tears open her box and reveals a pair of soundproof headphones. "Awesome!" She puts them on over her head. "I can't hear you at all!" she beams.

"Thank God," Vick mutters. I toss some crumpled wrapping paper his way.

So, it's a selfish gift. But whatever, she likes it. Those headphones will be necessary for when Peeta wants to make use of his gift.

"You next," Prim says to me.

I turn the tiny bag over in my hand, and out falls a dark blue velvet box. I furrow my brow as I open it. I retrieve a single solitaire diamond ring. My heart stops. I look at Peeta for an explanation.

"Is this...?"

"I know you still love him. And I know I can't give you the life that he would've. But when you're ready, I'd like to make new promises to you."

I look down at the ring. "What if you leave... Like he did?"

Peeta takes a deep breath. "I can't promise that won't happen." A single tear rolls down my cheek. Peeta wipes it away. "But I can promise that until that happens, I'll do my best to take care of you, and show you every day how much I love you. When I met you, my world was dark. But you make everything better. You pulled me out of the dark, and now it's light."

"Peeta…"

"Don't answer me right away. Wear that ring on whatever finger feels comfortable for now, okay?"

He kisses me, and if not for Prim sighing as she watches us, I'd have forgotten anyone else was here.

"Wow. Well... How are you going to follow that up, Catnip?" I love that he still calls me Catnip. It used to make me sad, but not anymore.

I tuck the ring into my pocket for now. My eyes drop to the box in Peeta's lap. "We should open that one in private," I tell him.

"Ooh, did you get him lingerie?"

"Prim!" I scold.

"Well? Did you?" she asks again. Peeta laughs as he makes a show of shaking the box.

"Seni ilgilendirmez," I tell her.

Peeta gives me a look. "Be nice."

"Well, it's _not_ any of her business." I huff out a breath. "Come on." I take Peeta by the hand and lead him to our bedroom.

"You'll tell me what color it is? Right, Ralphie?" Vick yells.

I shut the door behind us.

"Okay. Open it."

"Katniss, you're shaking."

"Yeah, well... I'm nervous."

"Why?"

"Because the gifts we got each other are similar in a way. Open it."

Peeta sits down on the bed, and tears open the wrapping paper. His fingers curl around the rope helix I crocheted especially for a certain purpose… for tying me up.

"Katniss?"

"I figure this would be a step up from the handcuffs…Um... Also..." I point up. In the corner of the room, where the camera can't see, is mistletoe hanging from a newly installed hook. "If you're ready...I thought maybe we could take things to the next level."

"You trust me?"

"I trust you. It's new territory, but we can figure it out, together." I pull the ring from my pocket and hand it to him. I offer him my left hand. He's still for a moment. "Peeta? Are you going to…?"

"Yeah, yeah, sorry. I'm... overwhelmed."

He slides the ring onto my finger on an exhale.

"I have one condition," Peeta says.

"What's that?"

"I don't want to get married in a church."

Then he pulls me in for a kiss. His lips move expertly against mine. As usual, he takes my breath away.

"Is this real?" His hand is still tightly clutching the rope tie.

"Real."

"I love you."

"I love you, too," I smile.

He looks down at the rope in his lap. "You made this?" His fingers move over the intricate woven helix pattern of the rope.

"You can learn anything on YouTube, Peeta. I knit you a scarf, too." I wink at him.

"Really?"

"Mmhmm."

"Well, then. Merry Christmas to me," he jokes.

"Merry Christmas to us," I agree.

* * *

**How did you enjoy this story? Don't forget to review and let me know.**

**There is a sequel in the works that will explore how this Everlark continues to grow together (and will include more BDSM, cus they're just getting started). Hope you stick around for it!**

Turkish words and phrases came from Google translate and for the idioms.

Info on epilepsy came from WebMD.


	5. When I Go

Hello! And thank you for reading!

The sequel to this story, entitled **When I Go,** is being posted over on AO3. It will not be posted here as this site does not allow joint authorship, and I have decided to continue this project with the talented and always inspiring MockingJayFlyingFree. We are working on three stories in total together, so please do look either of us up on AO3. Our pen names are the same as they are here (Lbug84 and MockingJayFlyingFree).

In case you're interested these are the lyrics to the song prompt for this story. I don't own anything :)

_Christmas TV by Slow Club_

_It's okay to have scars, they will make you who you are.  
It's okay to have fears, as long as you're not scared of coming here.  
And in the middle of the night, call if you want to talk,  
'cus you know, that I want to talk too._

_And it's not bad if you too think of what might go wrong,  
but you can't blame me for secretly hoping that I'll prove you wrong.  
It's okay, that I pray, that you will miss your flight, and have to stay with me another night._

_(chorus)  
And it's brutal, it's brutal, why can't you see?  
It's brutal, it's brutal, where have you been?  
'Cus we're far apart and my lonely heart finds it hard to get through the night.  
You pull me out of the dark and now it's light.  
You pull me out of the dark and now it's light._

_When we're out in the market, and out on the streets,  
I've got a pocket full of problems and a pocket full of seeds.  
Hoping something good might grow out of this mistletoe,  
and I won't have to remain to memory._

_I like the way that our arguements stop when we fall asleep,  
and the way that your body feels when it's wrapped around me,  
and I'd like it, if you made it to mine by Christmas Eve  
so you can hold me._

_And we'll watch Christmas TV._

_(chorus)_

_So come on home,  
just come on home._

_Just come on home,  
just come on home..._

* * *

This story began with a simple prompt and is evolving into an amazing journey. I hope you'll continue to read this series.


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